#AmericanWriters
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—
244 It is easy to work when the soul i… But when the soul is in pain— The hearing him put his playthings… Makes work difficult—then—
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
243 I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent— To wrap its shining Yards— Pluck up its stakes, and disappear… Without the sound of Boards
915 Faith’—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not’— Too slender for the eye
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—