#AmericanWriters
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—
Part One: Life LIII GOD gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv…
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
265 Where Ships of Purple—gently toss… On Seas of Daffodil— Fantastic Sailors—mingle— And then—the Wharf is still!
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,
15 The Guest is gold and crimson— An Opal guest and gray— Of Ermine is his doublet— His Capuchin gay—
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—