#AmericanWriters
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
A Coffin’—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave’—is a restricted Breadth’…
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to cha… Passive—as Granite—laps My Music…
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—