If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it.
#AmericanWriters
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
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
A door just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I,
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight's—due—at Noon.
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
Part One: Life LI IT tossed and tossed,— A little brig I knew,— O’ertook by blast,
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.
570 I could die’—to know’— ’Tis a trifling knowledge’— News-Boys salute the Door’— Carts’—joggle by’—
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
XXII I GAVE myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way.
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—