#AmericanWriters
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
I many times thought Peace had co… When Peace was far away’— As Wrecked Men’—deem they sight t… At Centre of the Sea’— And struggle slacker’—but to prove
THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
136 Have you got a Brook in your litt… Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drin… And shadows tremble so—
926 Patience’—has a quiet Outer’— Patience’—Look within’— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites’—between’—
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.