#AmericanWriters
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,
208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
569 I reckon—when I count at all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
72 Glowing is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak.
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is di… To venerable Birds Whose Corporation Coat