#AmericanWriters
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology
521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—
79 Going to Heaven! I don’t know when— Pray do not ask me how! Indeed I’m too astonished
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
273 He put the Belt around my life I heard the Buckle snap— And turned away, imperial, My Lifetime folding up—
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
24 There is a morn by men unseen— Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May— And all day long, with dance and g…
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—