#AmericanWriters
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is di… To venerable Birds Whose Corporation Coat
160 Just lost, when I was saved! Just felt the world go by! Just girt me for the onset with E… When breath blew back,
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—
845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!