#AmericanWriters
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
“Houses”'—so the Wise Men tell me… Houses—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
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
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood