#AmericanWriters
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
684 Best Gains—must have the Losses’… To constitute them—Gains—
733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—
358 If any sink, assure that this, now… Failed like Themselves—and consci… Grew by the Fact, and not the Und… How Weakness passed—or Force—aros…
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me Had I but further scanned
818 I could not drink it, Sweet, Till You had tasted first, Though cooler than the Water was The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.
33 If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not. And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot.
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…
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
