#AmericanWriters
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.