#AmericanWriters
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
187 How many times these low feet stag… Only the soldered mouth can tell— Try—can you stir the awful rivet— Try—can you lift the hasps of stee…
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
345 Funny’—to be a Century’— And see the People’—going by’— I’—should die of the Oddity’— But then’—I’m not so staid’—as He…
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
Image of Light, Adieu - Thanks for the interview - So long– so short – Preceptor of the whole - Coeval Cardinal -
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,