#AmericanWriters
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
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—
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
765 You constituted Time— I deemed Eternity A Revelation of Yourself— ’Twas therefore Deity
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
LXV GOOD night! which put the candle… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick
“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?
446 I showed her Heights she never sa… “Would’st Climb,” I said? She said—"Not so"— “With me—” I said—With me?
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
