#AmericanWriters
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
998 Best Things dwell out of Sight The Pearl—the Just—Our Thought. Most shun the Public Air Legitimate, and Rare—
The show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
283 A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child—Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—