#AmericanWriters
570 I could die’—to know’— ’Tis a trifling knowledge’— News-Boys salute the Door’— Carts’—joggle by’—
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—
107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
91 So bashful when I spied her! So pretty—so ashamed! So hidden in her leaflets Lest anybody find—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
758 These’—saw Visions’— Latch them softly’— These’—held Dimples’— Smooth them slow’—