#AmericanWriters
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—
766 My Faith is larger than the Hills… So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wh… To show the Sun the way—
116 I had some things that I called m… And God, that he called his, Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities.
552 An ignorance a Sunset Confer upon the Eye— Of Territory—Color— Circumference&mda sh;Decay—
819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy
110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
