#AmericanWriters
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
800 Two—were immortal twice— The privilege of few— Eternity—obtained—in Time— Reversed Divinity’—
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
