#AmericanWriters
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 show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play—
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’—
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—
A NARROW fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not? His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,
72 Glowing is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak.
