#AmericanWriters
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
Two butterflies went out at noon And waltzed above a stream, Then stepped straight through the… And rested on a beam; And then together bore away
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
443 I tie my Hat’—I crease my Shawl’… Life’s little duties do’—precisely… As the very least Were infinite’—to me’—
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…
493 The World’—stands’—solemner’—to m… Since I was wed’—to Him’— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s’—name’—
THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
