#AmericanWriters
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad