#AmericanWriters
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds
56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—
Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave… I will forget the light. When you have done pray tell me,
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—
636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— 'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—