#AmericanWriters
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us
My Garden—like the Beach— Denotes there be—a Sea— That’s Summer— Such as These—the Pearls She fetches—such as Me
628 They called me to the Window, for “ ’Twas Sunset”—Some one said— I only saw a Sapphire Farm— And just a Single Herd—
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –
I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,
‘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,
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—
929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.
569 I reckon—when I count it all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
