#AmericanWriters
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
The thought beneath so slight a fi… Is more distincly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
There is no Silence in the Earth… As that endured Which uttered, would discourage N… And haunt the World.
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
557 She hideth Her the last— And is the first, to rise— Her Night doth hardly recompense The Closing of Her eyes—
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
528 Mine—by the Right of the White E… Mine—by the Royal Seal! Mine—by the sign in the Scarlet p… Bars—cannot conceal!
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
