#AmericanWriters
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables
‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
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—
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
270 One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I—for it—would pay— My Soul’s entire income— In ceaseless—salary—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
243 I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent— To wrap its shining Yards— Pluck up its stakes, and disappear… Without the sound of Boards
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
Whole Gulfs– of Red, and Fleets… And Crews– of solid Blood – Did place upon the West– Tonight… As ’twere specific Ground - And They– appointed Creatures –
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
396 There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain— ’Tis Pain’s Successor—When the S… Has suffered all it can—