#AmericanWriters
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
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 -
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
MINE by the right of the white e… Mine by the royal seal! Mine by the sign in the scarlet pr… Bars cannot conceal! Mine, here in vision and in veto!
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
769 One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for schools— But for minor Choosing—
1545 The Bible is an antique Volume— Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectre… Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
Tie the strings to my life, my Lo… Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses— Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side,
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round