#AmericanWriters
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!
139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—
544 The Martyr Poets’—did not tell’— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate’—encourage Some…
I started Early– Took my Dog – And visited the Sea - The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me - And Frigates - in the Upper Floo…
Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
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,
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,