#AmericanWriters
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us
929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—
406 Some’—Work for Immortality’— The Chiefer part, for Time’— He’—Compensates’—immediately’— The former’—Checks’—on Fame’—
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence
My Garden—like the Beach— Denotes there be—a Sea— That’s Summer— Such as These—the Pearls She fetches—such as Me
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
326 I cannot dance upon my Toes’— No Man instructed me’— But oftentimes, among my mind, A Glee possesseth me,
