#AmericanWriters
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,
622 To know just how He suffered—woul… To know if any Human eyes were ne… To whom He could entrust His wave… Until it settle broad—on Paradise…
840 I cannot buy it—’tis not sold— There is no other in the World— Mine was the only one I was so happy I forgot
I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years
992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—
XXXIV WHO never lost, are unprepared A coronet to find; Who never thirsted, flagons And cooling tamarind.
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me