#AmericanWriters
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
326 I cannot dance upon my Toes’— No Man instructed me’— But oftentimes, among my mind, A Glee possesseth me,
THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
638 To my small Hearth His fire came— And all my House aglow Did fan and rock, with sudden ligh… ’Twas Sunrise—'twas the Sky—
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.