#AmericanWriters
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave… I will forget the light. When you have done pray tell me,
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
Tie the strings to my life, my Lo… Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses— Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side,
Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket