#AmericanWriters
322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
639 My Portion is Defeat—today— A paler luck than Victory— Less Paeans—fewer Bells— The Drums don’t follow Me—with tu…
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
84 Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a “Diver”— Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest.
300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
544 The Martyr Poets’—did not tell’— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate’—encourage Some…
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…