#AmericanWriters
766 My Faith is larger than the Hills… So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wh… To show the Sun the way—
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
563 I could not prove the Years had f… Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done—
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –