#AmericanWriters
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
716 The Day undressed—Herself— Her Garter—was of Gold— Her Petticoat—of Purple plain— Her Dimities—as old
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!
792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—
915 Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
