#AmericanWriters
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
To lose thee, sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. Tis true the drought is destitute But, then, I had the dew! The Caspian has its realms of san…
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros… And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming -
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown - Who ponders this tremendous scene… This whole Experiment of Green -
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry....
421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—
985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—
900 What did They do since I saw The… Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness