#AmericanWriters
723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—
My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
399 A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached—
Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—