#AmericanWriters
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—
733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
160 Just lost, when I was saved! Just felt the world go by! Just girt me for the onset with E… When breath blew back,
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket
532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
