#AmericanWriters
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
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
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
126 To fight aloud, is very brave— But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe—
LXVI WHEN I hoped I feared, Since I hoped I dared; Everywhere alone As a church remain;
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
570 I could die—to know— ’Tis a trifling knowledge— News-Boys salute the Door— Carts—joggle by—
Some keep the Sabbath going to Ch… I keep it, staying at Home— With a Bobolink for a Chorister— And an Orchard, for a Dome— Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice…
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time
