Poetry is when an emotion has foun…

I came an errand one cloud-blowing… To a slab-built, black-paper-cover… Of one room and one window and one… The only dwelling in a waste cut o… A hundred square miles round it in…

Never ask of money spent Where the spender thinks it went. Nobody was ever meant To remember or invent What he did with every cent.

The battle rent a cobweb diamond—s… And cut a flower beside a ground b… Before it stained a single human b… The stricken flower bent double an… And still the bird revisited her y…

As vain to raise a voice as a sigh In the tumult of free leaves on hi… What are you in the shadow of tree… Engaged up there with the light an… Less than the coral-root you know

Square Matthew Hale’s young graft… Began to blossom at the age of fiv… And after having entertained the b… And cast its flowers and all the s… It set itself to keep those three…

Never have I been glad or sad That there was such a thing as bad… There had to be, I understood, For there to have been any good. It was by having been contrasted

Let me be the one To do what is done.

An ant on the tablecloth Ran into a dormant moth Of many times his size. He showed not the least surprise. His business wasn’t with such.

But outer Space, At least this far, For all the fuss Of the populace Stays more popular

The sound of the closing outside d… You made no sound in the grass wit… As far as you went from the door,… But you had awakened under the mor… The first song-bird that awakened…

Out through the fields and the woo… And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and desce… I have come by the highway home,

A boy, presuming on his intellect, Once showed two little monkeys in… A burning-glass they could not und… And never could be made to underst… Words are no good: to say it was a…