#AmericanWriters
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
696 Their Height in Heaven comforts n… Their Glory—nought to me— ’Twas best imperfect—as it was— I’m finite—I can’t see—
848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
THE LARGEST fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men,
“Unto Me?” I do not know you’— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus’—Late of Judea’— Now’—of Paradise"'— Wagons’—have you’—to convey me?
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
