#AmericanWriters
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing
Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
IF I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
My Garden—like the Beach— Denotes there be—a Sea— That’s Summer— Such as These—the Pearls She fetches—such as Me
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
859 A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.