#AmericanWriters
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
677 To be alive’—is Power’— Existence’—in itself’— Without a further function’— Omnipotence’—Enough’—
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—
The inundation of the Spring Enlarges every soul - It sweeps the tenement away But leaves the Water whole - In which the soul at first estrang…
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,