#AmericanWriters
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
Rearrange a 'Wife’s’ affection! When they dislocate my Brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit, in thy Fastness…
184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—
540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.