#AmericanWriters
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
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 -
293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—
Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -
188 Make me a picture of the sun— So I can hang it in my room— And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”!
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled