#AmericanWriters
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
446 I showed her Heights she never sa… “Would’st Climb,” I said? She said—"Not so"— “With me—” I said—With me?
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
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,
774 It is a lonesome Glee— Yet sanctifies the Mind— With fair association— Afar upon the Wind
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,