#AmericanWriters
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,
Not with a club, the Heart is bro… Nor with a stone; A whip, so small you could not see… I’ve known To lash the magic creature
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
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
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society
599 There is a pain’—so utter’— It swallows substance up’— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
336 The face I carry with me’—last’— When I go out of Time’— To take my Rank’—by’—in the West’… That face’—will just be thine’—
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…