#AmericanWriters
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
136 Have you got a Brook in your litt… Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drin… And shadows tremble so—
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way — And so I deck, a little, If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—