#AmericanWriters
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—
A door just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I,
336 The face I carry with me’—last’— When I go out of Time’— To take my Rank’—by’—in the West’… That face’—will just be thine’—
Each life converges to some centre Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal, Admitted scarcely to itself, it ma…
473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
Abraham to kill him Was distinctly told’— Isaac was an Urchin’— Abraham was old’— Not a hesitation’—
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What fortitude the Soul contains