#AmericanWriters
765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even. But since the last included both,
The Snow that never drifts - The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving now - So thorough in the Tree
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
THERE’S a certain slant of ligh… On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes. Heavenly hurt it gives us;
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
They shut me up in Prose — As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet — Because they liked me “still” — Still! Could themself have peeped…
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
