#AmericanWriters
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
FORBIDDEN fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks!
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
674 The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad— Diviner Crowd at Home— Obliterate the need—
