#AmericanWriters
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
CXI A DOOR just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company.
96 Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here… Pray lead me to his bed! I came to build the Bird’s nest, And sow the Early seed—
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
780 The Truth — is stirless — Other force — may be presumed to m… This — then — is best for confiden… When oldest Cedars swerve —
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—