#AmericanWriters
185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
A Death blow is a Life blow to S… Who till they died, did not alive… Who had they lived, had died but w… They died, Vitality begun.
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,
192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
