#AmericanWriters
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—
Whose Pink career may have a clos… Portentous as our own, who knows? To imitate these Neighbors fleet In awe and innocence, were meet.
571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
To my quick ear the leaves conferr… The bushes they were bells; I could not find a privacy From Nature’s sentinels. In cave if I presumed to hide,
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
570 I could die’—to know’— ’Tis a trifling knowledge’— News-Boys salute the Door’— Carts’—joggle by’—
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.