#AmericanWriters
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—
Presentiment is that long shadow o… Indicative that suns go down; The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—
