#AmericanWriters
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
708 I sometimes drop it, for a Quick— The Thought to be alive— Anonymous Delight to know— And Madder—to conceive—
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.
37 Before the ice is in the pools— Before the skaters go, Or any check at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow—
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— 'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot