#AmericanWriters
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
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
