#AmericanWriters
513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
Part One: Life LIV EXPERIMENT to me Is every one I meet. If it contain a kernel?
769 One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for schools— But for minor Choosing—
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—
Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
Whole Gulfs– of Red, and Fleets… And Crews– of solid Blood – Did place upon the West– Tonight… As ’twere specific Ground - And They– appointed Creatures –
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—