#AmericanWriters
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
THE LARGEST fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men,
818 I could not drink it, Sweet, Till You had tasted first, Though cooler than the Water was The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
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!
838 Impossibility, like Wine Exhilarates the Man Who tastes it; Possibility Is flavorless—Combine
LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!