#AmericanWriters
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
Spring comes on the World - I sight the Aprils - Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative,
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict
1034 His Bill an Auger is, His Head, a Cap and Frill. He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal.
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
874 They won’t frown always—some sweet… When I forget to tease— They’ll recollect how cold I look… And how I just said “Please.”
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,