#AmericanWriters
391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight’s—due—at Noon.
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 't is said, a sinking… Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.