#AmericanWriters
982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
How slow the Wind - how slow the sea - how late their Fathers be!
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
900 What did They do since I saw The… Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,