#AmericanWriters
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
746 Never for Society He shall seek in vain— Who His own acquaintance Cultivate—Of Men
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
102 Great Caesar! Condescend The Daisy, to receive, Gathered by Cato’s Daughter, With your majestic leave!
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
LVII EXCEPT the heaven had come so n… So seemed to choose my door, The distance would not haunt me so… I had not hoped before.
276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
“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…
348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —