#AmericanWriters
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—
276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me. And frigates in the upper floor
262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—
537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!