#AmericanWriters
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
759 He fought like those Who’ve nough… Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use—
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.
LV I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills
947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?
42 A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory!
79 Going to Heaven! I don’t know when— Pray do not ask me how! Indeed I’m too astonished
It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
HE preached upon “breadth” till i… The broad are too broad to define: And of “truth” until it proclaimed… The truth never flaunted a sign. Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
