#AmericanWriters
If ever the lid gets off my head And lets the brain away The fellow will go where he belong… Without a hint from me, And the world– if the world be lo…
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
‘Faithful to the end’ Amended From the Heavenly Clause - Constancy with a Proviso Constancy abhors - ‘Crowns of Life’ are servile Priz…
230 We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing… ’Tisn’t all Hock—with us— Life has its Ale— But it’s many a lay of the Dim Bu…
420 You’ll know it—as you know ’tis N… By Glory— As you do the Sun— By Glory—
413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–
931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
799 Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering—Despair— To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—