#AmericanWriters
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
Good night! which put the candle o… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick The angels labored diligent;
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
“Houses”'—so the Wise Men tell me… Houses—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.