#AmericanWriters
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
LXVII A DEED knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.
’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power