#AmericanWriters
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....
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
268 Me, change! Me, alter! Then I will, when on the Everlast… A Smaller Purple grows— At sunset, or a lesser glow
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday
A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—