#AmericanWriters
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—
906 The Admirations—and Contempts—of… Show justest—through an Open Tomb… The Dying—as it were a Height Reorganizes Estimate
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—