#AmericanWriters
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when
312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,
THE LARGEST fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men,
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
555 Trust in the Unexpected— By this—was William Kidd Persuaded of the Buried Gold— As One had testified—
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,