#AmericanWriters
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
882 A Shade upon the mind there passe… As when on Noon A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses Remembering
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
345 Funny—to be a Century— And see the People—going by— I—should die of the Oddity— But then—I’m not so staid—as He—
796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
Death leaves Us homesick, who beh… Except that it is gone Are ignorant of its Concern As if it were not born. Through all their former Places,…
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
552 An ignorance a Sunset Confer upon the Eye— Of Territory—Color— Circumference&mda sh;Decay—
975 The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—
