#AmericanWriters
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
“Arcturus” is his other name’— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day’—
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,
The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—
High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power