#AmericanWriters
238 Kill your Balm’—and its Odors ble… Bare your Jessamine’—to the storm… And she will fling her maddest per… Haply’—your Summer night to Charm…
425 Good Morning’—Midnight’— I’m coming Home’— Day’—got tired of Me’— How could I’—of Him?
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
XXIV A NARROW fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not? His notice sudden is.
972 Unfulfilled to Observation— Incomplete—to Eye— But to Faith—a Revolution In Locality—
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,