#AmericanWriters
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
XX ARCTURUS is his other name,— I ’d rather call him star! It ’s so unkind of science To go and interfere!
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
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.
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
Before you thought of spring, Except as a surmise, You see, God bless his suddenness… A fellow in the skies Of independent hues,
851 When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face— When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—