#AmericanWriters
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
553 One Crucifixion is recorded’—only… How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics’— Or History’—
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.