#AmericanWriters
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
