#AmericanWriters
THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—
544 The Martyr Poets’—did not tell’— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate’—encourage Some…
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
230 We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing… ’Tisn’t all Hock—with us— Life has its Ale— But it’s many a lay of the Dim Bu…
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
296 One Year ago’—jots what? God’—spell the word! I’—can’t’— Was’t Grace? Not that’— Was’t Glory? That’—will do’—
531 We dream—it is good we are dreamin… It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek—
358 If any sink, assure that this, now… Failed like Themselves—and consci… Grew by the Fact, and not the Und… How Weakness passed—or Force—aros…
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy