#AmericanWriters
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
136 Have you got a Brook in your litt… Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drin… And shadows tremble so—
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
I died for beauty but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil
Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
HE preached upon “breadth” till i… The broad are too broad to define: And of “truth” until it proclaimed… The truth never flaunted a sign. Simplicity fled from his counterfe…
667 Bloom upon the Mountain—stated— Blameless of a Name— Efflorescence of a Sunset— Reproduced—the same—
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
599 There is a pain—so utter— It swallows substance up— Then covers the Abyss with Trance… So Memory can step
