#AmericanWriters
The spry Arms of the Wind If I could crawl between I have an errand imminent To an adjoining Zone - I should not care to stop
796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—
731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
401 What Soft—Cherubic Creatures— These Gentlewomen are— One would as soon assault a Plush… Or violate a Star—
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.
506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me