#AmericanWriters
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…
As from the earth the light Ballo… Asks nothing but release - Ascension that for which it was, Its soaring Residence. The spirit looks upon the Dust
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even—
925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—