#AmericanWriters #CommonMeasure #Epigram
845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!
IF I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
775 If Blame be my side’—forfeit Me’— But doom me not to forfeit Thee’— To forfeit Thee? The very name Is sentence from Belief’—and Hous…
792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—
508 I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being Thei… The name They dropped upon my fac… With water, in the country church Is finished using, now,
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—