#AmericanWriters
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—
19 A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer’s morn— A flask of Dew—A Bee or two— A Breeze—a caper in the trees—
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—