#AmericanWriters
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
500 Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel— Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill—
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next
140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…