#AmericanWriters
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
XXVII I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you k…
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—
179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—