#AmericanWriters
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
THE LARGEST fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men,
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.
78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—
My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—