#AmericanWriters
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!
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
A toad can die of light! Death is the common right Of toads and men,— Of earl and midge The privilege.
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
165 A Wounded Deer—leaps highest— I’ve heard the Hunter tell— ’Tis but the Ecstasy of death— And then the Brake is still!
I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me. And frigates in the upper floor
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
Tell as a Marksman - were forgot… Tell - this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears - Fresh as Mankind that humble stor…
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—