#AmericanWriters
936 This Dust, and its Feature— Accredited—Today—Will in a s… Cease to identify— This Mind, and its measure—
I am afraid to own a Body - I am afraid to own a Soul - Profound– precarious Property – Possession, not optional - Double Estate - entailed at plea…
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
The Grass so little has to do— A Sphere of simple Green— With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain— And stir all day to pretty Tunes
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry....
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—
517 He parts Himself’—like Leaves’— And then’—He closes up’— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup’—