#AmericanWriters
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
They say that ‘time assuages,’— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble,
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time
It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.