#AmericanWriters
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
349 I had the Glory—that will do— An Honor, Thought can turn her to When lesser Fames invite— With one long “Nay”—
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,
232 The Sun’—just touched the Morning… The Morning’—Happy thing’— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!