#AmericanWriters
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—