#AmericanWriters
622 To know just how He suffered—woul… To know if any Human eyes were ne… To whom He could entrust His wave… Until it settle broad—on Paradise…
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—
XLII SURGEONS must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,—Life!
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
