#AmericanWriters
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
XXIV WHETHER my bark went down at se… Whether she met with gales, Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails;
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—