#AmericanWriters
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
109 By a flower—By a letter— By a nimble love— If I weld the Rivet faster— Final fast—above—
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
Tell as a Marksman - were forgot… Tell - this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears - Fresh as Mankind that humble stor…
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,