#AmericanWriters
218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
120 If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
There is no Silence in the Earth… As that endured Which uttered, would discourage N… And haunt the World.
771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given