#AmericanWriters
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
The day came slow, till five o’clo… Then sprang before the hills, Like hindered rubies, or the light… A sudden musket spills. The purple could not keep the east…
636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
920 We can but follow to the Sun— As oft as He go down He leave Ourselves a Sphere behin… ’Tis mostly—following—
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
XXIV A NARROW fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not? His notice sudden is.
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,