#AmericanWriters
Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
599 There is a pain’—so utter’— It swallows substance up’— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
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…
‘They have not chosen me,’ he said… ‘But I have chosen them!’ Brave’—Broken hearted statement’— Uttered in Bethlehem! I could not have told it,
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
378 I saw no Way—The Heavens were st… I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemisphere… I touched the Universe—
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning