#AmericanWriters
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
A door just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I,
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
Sometimes with the Heart Seldom with the Soul Scarcer once with the Might Few - love at all.
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue
Not any sunny tone From any fervent zone Find entrance there - Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature’s home -