#AmericanWriters
1034 His Bill an Auger is, His Head, a Cap and Frill. He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal.
659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—
315 He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Keys Before they drop full Music on— He stuns you by degrees—
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
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
545 ’Tis One by One—the Father count… And then a Tract between Set Cypherless—to teach the Eye The Value of its Ten—
Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
64 Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair… Some Vision of the World Cashmer… I confidently see! Or else a Peacock’s purple Train
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—