#AmericanWriters
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
1545 The Bible is an antique Volume— Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectre… Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
401 What Soft’—Cherubic Creatures’— These Gentlewomen are’— One would as soon assault a Plush… Or violate a Star’—
725 Where Thou art’—that’—is Home’— Cashmere’—or Calvary’—the same’— Degree’—or Shame’— I scarce esteem Location’s Name’—
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
Part One: Life And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost To take it. How sweet it would have tasted,
603 He found my Being’—set it up’— Adjusted it to place’— Then carved his name’—upon it’— And bade it to the East
I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way — And so I deck, a little, If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet
448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense