#AmericanWriters
369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
If Nature smiles - the Mother mu… I’m sure, at many a whim Of Her eccentric Family - Is She so much to blame?
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
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?
65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
