#AmericanWriters
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—
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…
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
365 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
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
LV I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills
The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem
The day came slow, till five o’clo… Then sprang before the hills, Like hindered rubies, or the light… A sudden musket spills. The purple could not keep the east…
532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
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…