#AmericanWriters
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
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—
58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…
909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—