#AmericanWriters
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
329 So glad we are’—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were’— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear’—
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
232 The Sun’—just touched the Morning… The Morning’—Happy thing’— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!
703 Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird—reach it! Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep— Round the Steep Air—
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—
202 My Eye is fuller than my vase— Her Cargo—is of Dew— And still—my Heart—my Eye outweig… East India—for you!
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—