#AmericanWriters
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
LV I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how
An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is di… To venerable Birds Whose Corporation Coat
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.