#AmericanWriters
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy
577 If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented—so— If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me—
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!
269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
766 My Faith is larger than the Hills… So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wh… To show the Sun the way—
