#AmericanWriters
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
HE preached upon “breadth” till i… The broad are too broad to define: And of “truth” until it proclaimed… The truth never flaunted a sign. Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
LXVI WHEN I hoped I feared, Since I hoped I dared; Everywhere alone As a church remain;
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 't is said, a sinking… Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
