#AmericanWriters
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown - Who ponders this tremendous scene… This whole Experiment of Green -
513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…