#AmericanWriters
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
XIX PAIN has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.
849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
LXII A DROP fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh.
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
291 How the old Mountains drip with S… How the Hemlocks burn— How the Dun Brake is draped in C… By the Wizard Sun—
859 A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—