#AmericanWriters
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
563 I could not prove the Years had f… Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done—
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
860 Absence disembodies—so does Death Hiding individuals from the Earth Superposition helps, as well as lo… Tenderness decreases as we prove—
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—
My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—