#AmericanWriters
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
270 One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I—for it—would pay— My Soul’s entire income— In ceaseless—salary—
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
‘They have not chosen me,’ he said… ‘But I have chosen them!’ Brave’—Broken hearted statement’— Uttered in Bethlehem! I could not have told it,
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar
975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—