#AmericanWriters
55 By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted— Which blossom in the dark.
23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—
I started Early– Took my Dog – And visited the Sea - The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me - And Frigates - in the Upper Floo…
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
244 It is easy to work when the soul i… But when the soul is in pain— The hearing him put his playthings… Makes work difficult—then—
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to cha… Passive—as Granite—laps My Music…
329 So glad we are—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear—
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.