#AmericanWriters
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
Whose Pink career may have a clos… Portentous as our own, who knows? To imitate these Neighbors fleet In awe and innocence, were meet.
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—
Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
XXXVIII THROUGH the straight pass of su… The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God.
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,