#AmericanWriters
262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—
563 I could not prove the Years had f… Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done—
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
244 It is easy to work when the soul i… But when the soul is in pain— The hearing him put his playthings… Makes work difficult—then—
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
To lose thee, sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. Tis true the drought is destitute But, then, I had the dew! The Caspian has its realms of san…
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks