#AmericanWriters
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die
139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—