#AmericanWriters
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—