#AmericanWriters
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!
156 You love me—you are sure— I shall not fear mistake— I shall not cheated wake— Some grinning morn—
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—
Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
To see her is a Picture— To hear her is a Tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction—
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men: