#AmericanWriters
743 The Birds reported from the South… A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
Tell all the truth but tell it sla… Success in circuit lies, Too bright for our infirm delight The truth’s superb surprise; As lightning to the children eased
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
190 He was weak, and I was strong—the… So He let me lead him in— I was weak, and He was strong the… So I let him lead me—Home.
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
800 Two—were immortal twice— The privilege of few— Eternity—obtained—in Time— Reversed Divinity’—
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—