#AmericanWriters
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
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....
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
17 Baffled for just a day or two— Embarrassed—not afraid— Encounter in my garden An unexpected Maid.
“Arcturus” is his other name’— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day’—
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
906 The Admirations’—and Contempts’—o… Show justest’—through an Open Tom… The Dying’—as it were a Height Reorganizes Estimate
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—