#AmericanWriters
205 I should not dare to leave my frie… Because—because if he should die While I was gone—and I—too late— Should reach the Heart that wante…
96 Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here… Pray lead me to his bed! I came to build the Bird’s nest, And sow the Early seed—
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
A Sickness of this World it most… When Best Men die. A Wishfulness their far Condition To occupy. A Chief indifference, as Foreign
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
447 Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?
817 Given in Marriage unto Thee Oh thou Celestial Host— Bride of the Father and the Son Bride of the Holy Ghost.
517 He parts Himself’—like Leaves’— And then’—He closes up’— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup’—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry....
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
420 You’ll know it—as you know ’tis N… By Glory— As you do the Sun— By Glory—