#AmericanWriters
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
Let me not mar that perfect Dream By an Auroral stain But so adjust my daily Night That it will come again. Not when we know, the Power accos…
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
752 So the Eyes accost—and sunder In an Audience— Stamped—occasionally—forever— So may Countenance
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
