#AmericanWriters
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal
184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
798 She staked her Feathers—Gained an… Debated—Rose again— This time—beyond the estimate Of Envy, or of Men—
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—