#AmericanWriters
204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
313 I should have been too glad, I se… Too lifted—for the scant degree Of Life’s penurious Round— My little Circuit would have sham…
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…
878 The Sun is gay or stark According to our Deed. If Merry, He is merrier— If eager for the Dead
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—