#AmericanWriters
The spry Arms of the Wind If I could crawl between I have an errand imminent To an adjoining Zone - I should not care to stop
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
251 Over the fence— Strawberries—grow— Over the fence— I could climb—if I tried, I know—
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
420 You’ll know it—as you know ’tis N… By Glory— As you do the Sun— By Glory—
977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;