#AmericanWriters
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
227 Teach Him’—When He makes the nam… Such an one’—to say’— On his babbling’—Berry’—lips’— As should sound’—to me’—
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
“Arcturus” is his other name’— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day’—
860 Absence disembodies—so does Death Hiding individuals from the Earth Superposition helps, as well as lo… Tenderness decreases as we prove—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
CXI A DOOR just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company.