#AmericanWriters
Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
173 A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun!
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—
170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?