#AmericanWriters
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
780 The Truth — is stirless — Other force — may be presumed to m… This — then — is best for confiden… When oldest Cedars swerve —
Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
I am afraid to own a Body - I am afraid to own a Soul - Profound– precarious Property – Possession, not optional - Double Estate - entailed at plea…
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—