#AmericanWriters
‘And with what body do they come?’… Then they do come - Rejoice! What Door– What Hour– Run– ru… Illuminate the House! ‘Body!’ Then real– a Face and E…
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
798 She staked her Feathers—Gained an… Debated—Rose again— This time—beyond the estimate Of Envy, or of Men—
10 My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
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—
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
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?
