#AmericanWriters
595 Like Mighty Foot Lights’—burned… At Bases of the Trees’— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting’—to These’—
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
LXXXII THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.