#AmericanWriters
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could… Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions—
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
684 Best Gains—must have the Losses’… To constitute them—Gains—
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—