#AmericanWriters
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—
423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—
447 Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?
926 Patience’—has a quiet Outer’— Patience’—Look within’— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites’—between’—
823 Not that We did, shall be the tes… When Act and Will are done But what Our Lord infers We woul… Had We diviner been—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—