#AmericanWriters
446 I showed her Heights she never sa… “Would’st Climb,” I said? She said—"Not so"— “With me—” I said—With me?
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
103 I have a King, who does not speak… So—wondering—thro’ the hours meek I trudge the day away— Half glad when it is night, and sl…
40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people
453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —
818 I could not drink it, Sweet, Till You had tasted first, Though cooler than the Water was The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched… Sleep the meek members of the resu… Rafter of satin, and roof of stone… Light laughs the breeze in her cas…
My life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
LXXXII THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.