#AmericanWriters
158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?
349 I had the Glory—that will do— An Honor, Thought can turn her to When lesser Fames invite— With one long “Nay”—
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
487 You love the Lord’—you cannot see… You write Him’—every day’— A little note’—when you awake’— And further in the Day.
175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
A Coffin’—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave’—is a restricted Breadth’…
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds