#AmericanWriters
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet now I know how the heather lo… And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God,
477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,