#AmericanWriters
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
These—saw Visions— Latch them softly— These—held Dimples— Smooth them slow— This—addressed departing accents—
500 Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel— Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill—
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
To lose thee, sweeter than to gain All other hearts I knew. Tis true the drought is destitute But, then, I had the dew! The Caspian has its realms of san…
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time