#AmericanWriters
975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
136 Have you got a Brook in your litt… Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drin… And shadows tremble so—
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
590 Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s… Widths out of the Sun— And look—and shudder, and block yo… And deem to be alone
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
XV I know some lonely houses off the… A robber ’d like the look of,— Wooden barred, And windows hanging low,