#AmericanWriters
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, ‘Come in,’ I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest,
If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have
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
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
632 The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside—
577 If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented—so— If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me—
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—
43 Could live—did live— Could die—did die— Could smile upon the whole Through faith in one he met not,
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?