#AmericanWriters
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
64 Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair… Some Vision of the World Cashmer… I confidently see! Or else a Peacock’s purple Train
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
You said that I “was Great”'—one… Then “Great” it be’—if that pleas… Or Small’—or any size at all’— Nay’—I’m the size suit Thee’— Tall’—like the Stag’—would that?
