#AmericanWriters
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
LV MY country need not change her go… Her triple suit as sweet As when ’t was cut at Lexington, And first pronounced “a fit.”
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
915 Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face
243 I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent— To wrap its shining Yards— Pluck up its stakes, and disappear… Without the sound of Boards