#AmericanWriters
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
336 The face I carry with me—last— When I go out of Time— To take my Rank—by—in the West— That face—will just be thine—
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
598 Three times—we parted—Breath—and… Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless F… The Waters—strove to stay.
227 Teach Him – When He makes the na… Such an one – to say – On his babbling – Berry – lips – As should sound – to me –
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
