#AmericanWriters
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
880 The Bird must sing to earn the Cr… What merit have the Tune No Breakfast if it guaranty The Rose content may bloom
947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—