#AmericanWriters
XXXIV NATURE is what we see, The Hill, the Afternoon— Squirrel, Eclipse, the Bumble-bee… Nay—Nature is Heaven.
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
116 I had some things that I called m… And God, that he called his, Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities.
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
LXV GOOD night! which put the candle… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
502 At least—to pray—is left—is left— Oh Jesus—in the Air— I know not which thy chamber is— I’m knocking—everywhere—
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—