#AmericanWriters
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—
880 The Bird must sing to earn the Cr… What merit have the Tune No Breakfast if it guaranty The Rose content may bloom
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
445 ’Twas just this time, last year,… I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms— It had the Tassels on—
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,