#AmericanWriters
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
A Pang is more conspicuous in Spr… In contrast with the things that s… Not Birds entirely– but Minds – Minute Effulgencies and Winds - When what they sung for is undone
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
291 How the old Mountains drip with S… How the Hemlocks burn— How the Dun Brake is draped in C… By the Wizard Sun—
949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
365 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
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
