#AmericanWriters
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
474 They put Us far apart— As separate as Sea And Her unsown Peninsula— We signified “These see”—
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
752 So the Eyes accost’—and sunder In an Audience’— Stamped’—occasionally’—forever’— So may Countenance
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base