#AmericanWriters #CommonMeasure #Epigram
XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
606 The Trees like Tassels—hit—and sw… There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun—
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
632 The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside—
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—