#AmericanWriters
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
522 Had I presumed to hope— The loss had been to Me A Value—for the Greatness’ Sake— As Giants—gone away—
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
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 -
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost