#AmericanWriters
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
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
874 They won’t frown always—some sweet… When I forget to tease— They’ll recollect how cold I look… And how I just said “Please.”
’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,
We grow accustomed to the Dark - When light is put away - As when the Neighbor holds the La… To witness her Goodbye - A Moment - We uncertain step
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—
722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came