#AmericanWriters
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
832 Soto! Explore thyself! Therein thyself shalt find The “Undiscovered Continent”— No Settler had the Mind.
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—