#AmericanWriters
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
64 Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair… Some Vision of the World Cashmer… I confidently see! Or else a Peacock’s purple Train
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
860 Absence disembodies—so does Death Hiding individuals from the Earth Superposition helps, as well as lo… Tenderness decreases as we prove—
872 As the Starved Maelstrom laps the… As the Vulture teased Forces the Broods in lonely Valle… As the Tiger eased
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
759 He fought like those Who’ve nough… Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use—
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,