#AmericanWriters
Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
336 The face I carry with me—last— When I go out of Time— To take my Rank—by—in the West— That face—will just be thine—
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
915 Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host