#AmericanWriters
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
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—
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!
I many times thought Peace had co… When Peace was far away’— As Wrecked Men’—deem they sight t… At Centre of the Sea’— And struggle slacker’—but to prove
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
725 Where Thou art—that—is Home— Cashmere—or Calvary—the same— Degree—or Shame— I scarce esteem Location’s Name—
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—