#AmericanWriters
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
319 Of Bronze—and Blaze— The North—tonight— So adequate—it forms— So preconcerted with itself—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet