#AmericanWriters
414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
“Speech”'—is a prank of Parliamen… “Tears”'—is a trick of the nerve’— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn’t’—always’—move’—
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
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
193 I shall know why — when Time is o… And I have ceased to wonder why — Christ will explain each separate… In the fair schoolroom of the sky…
802 Time feels so vast that were it no… For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity—