#AmericanWriters
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
396 There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain— ’Tis Pain’s Successor—When the S… Has suffered all it can—
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
202 My Eye is fuller than my vase— Her Cargo—is of Dew— And still—my Heart—my Eye outweig… East India—for you!