#AmericanWriters
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years
73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
