#AmericanWriters
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much jo… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw!
XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
631 Ourselves were wed one summer’—dea… Your Vision’—was in June’— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied’—too’—of mine’—
929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
677 To be alive’—is Power’— Existence’—in itself’— Without a further function’— Omnipotence’—Enough’—
Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.