#AmericanWriters
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,
I held a Jewel in my fingers’— And went to sleep’— The day was warm, and winds were p… I said 'Twill keep’— I woke’—and chid my honest fingers…
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— 'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—