#AmericanWriters
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
‘And with what body do they come?’… Then they do come - Rejoice! What Door– What Hour– Run– ru… Illuminate the House! ‘Body!’ Then real– a Face and E…
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.