#AmericanWriters
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
126 To fight aloud, is very brave— But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe—
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin
Whole Gulfs– of Red, and Fleets… And Crews– of solid Blood – Did place upon the West– Tonight… As ’twere specific Ground - And They– appointed Creatures –
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
If ever the lid gets off my head And lets the brain away The fellow will go where he belong… Without a hint from me, And the world– if the world be lo…
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—