#AmericanWriters
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
To see her is a Picture— To hear her is a Tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction—
296 One Year ago’—jots what? God’—spell the word! I’—can’t’— Was’t Grace? Not that’— Was’t Glory? That’—will do’—
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—