#AmericanWriters
13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
283 A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child—Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
If ever the lid gets off my head And lets the brain away The fellow will go where he belong… Without a hint from me, And the world– if the world be lo…