#AmericanWriters
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
721 Behind Me’—dips Eternity’— Before Me’—Immortality’— Myself’—the Term between’— Death but the Drift of Eastern G…
595 Like Mighty Foot Lights’—burned… At Bases of the Trees’— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting’—to These’—
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –