#AmericanWriters
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
531 We dream—it is good we are dreamin… It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek—
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—