#AmericanWriters
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
LXVII If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam,
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
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…
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy
XXXVIII THROUGH the straight pass of su… The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God.