#AmericanWriters
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
1545 The Bible is an antique Volume— Written by faded men At the suggestion of Holy Spectre… Subjects—Bethlehem&mdash ;
466 ’Tis little I—could care for Pear… Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me—
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
15 The Guest is gold and crimson— An Opal guest and gray— Of Ermine is his doublet— His Capuchin gay—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
193 I shall know why—when Time is ove… And I have ceased to wonder why— Christ will explain each separate… In the fair schoolroom of the sky—
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
238 Kill your Balm—and its Odors bles… Bare your Jessamine—to the storm— And she will fling her maddest per… Haply—your Summer night to Charm—
