#AmericanWriters
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
445 ’Twas just this time, last year,… I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms— It had the Tassels on—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty
276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—