#AmericanWriters
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
Spring comes on the World - I sight the Aprils - Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative,
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much jo… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw!
The inundation of the Spring Enlarges every soul - It sweeps the tenement away But leaves the Water whole - In which the soul at first estrang…
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
802 Time feels so vast that were it no… For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity—
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…