#AmericanWriters
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—
302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June
133 As Children bid the Guest “Good… And then reluctant turn— My flowers raise their pretty lips… Then put their nightgowns on.
437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech
XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight,
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet