#AmericanWriters
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
230 We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing… ’Tisn’t all Hock—with us— Life has its Ale— But it’s many a lay of the Dim Bu…
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
Presentiment is that long shadow o… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—
415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight's—due—at Noon.
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…