#AmericanWriters
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
43 Could live—did live— Could die—did die— Could smile upon the whole Through faith in one he met not,
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
XCVI MY life closed twice before its c… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me,
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables