#AmericanWriters
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
A toad can die of light! Death is the common right Of toads and men,— Of earl and midge The privilege.
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight's—due—at Noon.
THE LARGEST fire ever known Occurs each afternoon, Discovered is without surprise, Proceeds without concern: Consumes, and no report to men,
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—
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