#AmericanWriters
859 A doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
569 I reckon—when I count it all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—
17 Baffled for just a day or two— Embarrassed—not afraid— Encounter in my garden An unexpected Maid.
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
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
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.
194 On this long storm the Rainbow ro… On this late Morn—the Sun— The clouds—like listless Elephant… Horizons—straggled down—
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity