#AmericanWriters
817 Given in Marriage unto Thee Oh thou Celestial Host— Bride of the Father and the Son Bride of the Holy Ghost.
84 Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a “Diver”— Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest.
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
296 One Year ago’—jots what? God’—spell the word! I’—can’t’— Was’t Grace? Not that’— Was’t Glory? That’—will do’—
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
We grow accustomed to the Dark - When light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the La… To witness her Goodbye - A Moment - We uncertain step
24 There is a morn by men unseen— Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May— And all day long, with dance and g…
It's thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.