#AmericanWriters
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,