#AmericanWriters #CommonMeasure #Epigram
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
Tell all the truth but tell it sla… Success in circuit lies, Too bright for our infirm delight The truth’s superb surprise; As lightning to the children eased
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
842 Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! Better, to be found, If one care to, that is, The Fox fits the Hound—