#AmericanWriters
Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which…
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
319 Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself —
653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
Each life converges to some centre Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal, Admitted scarcely to itself, it ma…
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.