#AmericanWriters
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
The Wind took up the Northern Th… And piled them in the south - Then gave the East unto the West And opening his mouth The four Divisions of the Earth
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
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
LXXXII THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes.
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—
156 You love me—you are sure— I shall not fear mistake— I shall not cheated wake— Some grinning morn—