| Title of Piece | Prose or Poetry |
| Woodpecker , The | Poetry |
| Success is Counted Sweetest | Poetry |
| The White Heat | Poetry |
| Elysium is as far as to | Poetry |
| After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes | Poetry |
| You left me, sweet, two legacies,-- | Poetry |
| Wild Nights! Wild Nights! | Poetry |
| We play at paste, | Poetry |
| We outgrow love like other things | Poetry |
| We like march, his shoes are purple, | Poetry |
| Victory comes late, | Poetry |
| Two butterflies went out at noon | Poetry |
| 'T was just this time last year I died. | Poetry |
| To my quick ear the leaves conferred; | Poetry |
| Tie the strings to my life, my Lord, | Poetry |
| The thought beneath so slight a film | Poetry |
| This is the land the sunset washes, | Poetry |
| This is my letter to the world, | Poetry |
| They say that 'time assuages,'-- | Poetry |
| They dropped like flakes | Poetry |
| There 's been a death in the opposite house | Poetry |
| There 's a certain slant of light, | Poetry |
| There is no frigate like a book | Poetry |
| The wind trapped like a tired man, | Poetry |
| The wind begun to rock the grass | Poetry |
| The sky is low, the clouds are mean, | Poetry |
| The show is not the show, | Poetry |
| The pedigree of honey | Poetry |
| The only ghost I ever saw | Poetry |
| The nearest dream recedes, unrealized. | Poetry |
| The heart asks pleasure first | Poetry |
| The dying need but little, dear,-- | Poetry |
| The day came slow, till five o' clock | Poetry |
| The cricket sang | Poetry |
| The bustle in a house | Poetry |
| The braind within its groove | Poetry |
| So proud she was to die | Poetry |
| So bashful when I spied her, | Poetry |
| She sweeps with many-colored brooms, | Poetry |
| She rose to his requirement, dropped | Poetry |
| Safe in their alabaster chambers, | Poetry |
| Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn | Poetry |
| Pain has an element of blank; | Poetry |
| Our journey had advanced; | Poetry |
| One need not be a chamber to be haunted, | Poetry |
| Of all the souls that stand create | Poetry |
| Not in this world to see his face | Poetry |
| Nature , the gentlest mother, | Poetry |
| Nature rarer uses yellow | Poetry |
| My nosegays are for captives; | Poetry |
| My life closed twice before its close; | Poetry |
| Me ! Come! My dazzled face | Poetry |
| Like trains of cars on tracks of plush | Poetry |
| It 's like the light, -- | Poetry |
| It 's All I have to bring to-day, | Poetry |
| It was not death, for I stood up, | Poetry |
| It struck me every day | Poetry |
| It is an honorable thought, | Poetry |
| It dropped so low in my regard | Poetry |
| I 'm nobody! Who are you? | Poetry |
| I 'll tell you how the sun rose, -- | Poetry |
| If you were coming in the fall, | Poetry |
| If I can stop one heart from breaking, | Poetry |
| I years had been from home, | Poetry |
| I went to heaven,-- | Poetry |
| I taste a liquor never brewed | Poetry |
| I stepped from plank to plank | Poetry |
| I never saw a moor, | Poetry |
| I never hear the word "escape" | Poetry |
| I measure every grief I meet | Poetry |
| I ment to find her when I came; | Poetry |
| I lived on dread; to those who know | Poetry |
| I like to see it lap the miles, | Poetry |
| I know a place where summer strives | Poetry |
| I heard a fly buzz when I died; | Poetry |
| I had no time to hate, because | Poetry |
| I had been hungry all the years- | Poetry |
| I found the phrase to every thought | Poetry |
| I felt a funeral in my brain, | Poetry |
| I felt a cleaving in my mind | Poetry |
| First Robin | Poetry |
| I died for beauty but was scarce | Poetry |
| I cannot live with you, | Poetry |
| I breathed enough to learn the trick, | Poetry |
| Hope is the thing with feathers | Poetry |
| Her final summer was it, | Poetry |
| Heaven is what I cannot reach! | Poetry |
| He fumbles at your spirit | Poetry |
| Good night! which put the candle out? | Poetry |
| Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him-- | Poetry |
| God permit industrious angels | Poetry |
| God made a little gentian; | Poetry |
| God gave a loaf to every bird, | Poetry |
| For each ecstatic instant | Poetry |
| Each life converges to some centre | Poetry |
| Departed to the judgment, | Poetry |
| Delight becomes pictorial | Poetry |
| Death sets a thing of signigicant | Poetry |
| Before you thought of spring, | Poetry |
| Because I could not stop for Death, | Poetry |
| An everywhere of silver, | Poetry |
| Ample make this bed. | Poetry |
| After a hundred years | Poetry |
| A thought went up my mind to-day | Poetry |
| A shady friend for torrid days | Poetry |
| A narrow fellow in the grass | Poetry |
| A long, long sleep, a famous sleep | Poetry |
| A little road not made man | Poetry |
| A light exists in spring | Poetry |
| A drop fell on the apple tree | Poetry |
| A door just opened on a street | Poetry |
| A Clock Stopped -- Not The Mantel's | Poetry |
| A Bird Came Down | Poetry |
| We Grow Accustomed To The Dark | poetry |
| Your thoughts don't have words every day | Poetry |
| You cannot take itself | Poetry |
| You cannot make Remembrance grow | Poetry |
| Yesterday is History | Poetry |
| untitled | Poetry |
| Without a smile-Without a Throe | Poetry |
| Within thy Grave! | Poetry |
| Within that little Hive | Poetry |
| With sweetness unabated | Poetry |
| With Pinions of Disdain | Poetry |
| Witchcraft was hung, in History | Poetry |
| Witchcraft has not a Pedigree | Poetry |
| Winter is good-his Hoar Delights | Poetry |
| Why should we hurry-why indeed? | Poetry |
| Whose Pink career may have a close | Poetry |
| Whoever disenchants | Poetry |
| Who were "the Father and the Son" | Poetry |
| Who saw no Sunrise cannot say | Poetry |
| Who never wanted-maddest Joy | Poetry |
| Who is the East? | Poetry |
| Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights- | Poetry |
| Who has not found the Heaven-below- | Poetry |
| Who goes to dine must take his Feast | Poetry |
| Who abdicated Ambush | Poetry |
| White as an Indian Pipe | Poetry |
| While we were fearing it, it came- | Poetry |
| Which misses most | Poetry |
| Which is the best-the Moon or the Crescent? | Poetry |
| Which is best? Heaven- | Poetry |
| Whether they have forgotten | Poetry |
| Where Roses would not dare to go | Poetry |
| Where every bird is bold to go | Poetry |
| When we have ceased to care | Poetry |
| When they come back-if Blossoms do- | Poetry |
| When Memory is full | Poetry |
| When I hoped I feared- | Poetry |
| When Etna basks and purrs | Poetry |
| When a Lover is a Beggar | Poetry |
| Whatever it is-she has tried it- | Poetry |
| What we see we know somewhat | Poetry |
| What Twigs We held by- | Poetry |
| What tenements of clover | Poetry |
| What mystery pervades a well! | Poetry |
| Were natural mortal lady | Poetry |
| Were it to be the last | Poetry |
| Were it but Me that gained the Height- | Poetry |
| We wear our sober Dresses when we die | Poetry |
| We talked with each other about each other | Poetry |
| We shun it ere it comes | Poetry |
| We shun because we prize her Face | Poetry |
| We shall find the Cube of the Rainbow | Poetry |
| We send the Wave to find the Wave- | Poetry |
| We never know we go when we are going- | Poetry |
| We never know how high we are | Poetry |
| We miss a Kinsman more | Poetry |
| We like March | Poetry |
| We like a Hairbreadth 'scape | Poetry |
| We learn it in Retreating | Poetry |
| We knew not that we were to live- | Poetry |
| We introduce ourselves | Poetry |
| We do not know the time we lose- | Poetry |
| Water makes many Beds | Poetry |
| "Was not" was all the Statement | Poetry |
| Warm in her Hand these accents lie | Poetry |
| Volcanoes be in Sicily | Poetry |
| Upon the gallows hung a wretch | Poetry |
| Upon his Saddle sprung a Bird | Poetry |
| Upon a Lilac Sea | Poetry |
| Up Life's Hill with my my little Bundle | Poetry |
| Unworthy of her Breast | Poetry |
| Unto the Whole-how add? | Poetry |
| Unto a broken heart | Poetry |
| Until the Desert knows | Poetry |
| Two Lengths has every Day- | Poetry |
| 'Twas later when the summer went | Poetry |
| 'Twas here my summer paused | Poetry |
| 'Twas fighting for his Life he was- | Poetry |
| 'Twas comfort in her Dying Room | Poetry |
| Trusty as the stars | Poetry |
| Trudging to Eden, looking backward | Poetry |
| Tried always and Condemned by thee | Poetry |
| Touch lightly Nature's sweet Guitar | Poetry |
| Too scanty 'twas to die for you | Poetry |
| Too happy Time dissolves itself | Poetry |
| Too few the mornings be | Poetry |
| Too cold is this | Poetry |
| "Tomorrow"-whose location | Poetry |
| Today or this noon | Poetry |
| To undertake is to achieve | Poetry |
| To try to speak, and miss the way | Poetry |
| To their apartment deep | Poetry |
| To the stanch Dust | Poetry |
| To the bright east she flies | Poetry |
| To tell the Beauty would decrease | Poetry |
| To see her is a Picture- | Poetry |
| To pile like Thunder to its close | Poetry |
| To own a Susan of my own | Poetry |
| To mend each tattered Faith | Poetry |
| To make Routine a Stimulus | Poetry |
| To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee | Poetry |
| To lose thee-sweeter than to gain | Poetry |
| To his simplicity | Poetry |
| To her derided Home | Poetry |
| To help our Bleaker Parts | Poetry |
| To flee from memory | Poetry |
| To earn it by disdaining it | Poetry |
| To do a magnanimous thing | Poetry |
| To disappear enhances- | Poetry |
| To die-without the Dying | Poetry |
| To break so vast a Heart | Poetry |
| To be forgot by thee | Poetry |
| Title divine-is mine! | Poetry |
| 'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe- | Poetry |
| 'Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War | Poetry |
| 'Tis not the swaying frame we miss | Poetry |
| 'Tis my first night beneath the Sun | Poetry |
| 'Tis easier to pity those when dead | Poetry |
| Time's wily Chargers will not wait | Poetry |
| Time does go on- | Poetry |
| Through what transports of Patience | Poetry |
| Through those old Grounds of memory | Poetry |
| Three Weeks passed since I had seen Her- | Poetry |
| Though the great Waters sleep | Poetry |
| Those not live yet | Poetry |
| Those final Creatures,-who they are- | Poetry |
| Those-dying then | Poetry |
| Those cattle smaller than a Bee | Poetry |
| This slow Day moved along- | Poetry |
| This Me-that walks and works-must die | Poetry |
| This is the place they hoped before | Poetry |
| This docile one inter | Poetry |
| This dirty-little-Heart | Poetry |
| They talk as slow as Legends grow | Poetry |
| They might not need me-yet they might- | Poetry |
| These Strangers, in a foreign World | Poetry |
| These held their Wick above the West- | Poetry |
| These Fevered Days-to take them to the Forest | Poetry |
| These are the Signs to Nature's Inns- | Poetry |
| These are the Nights that Beetles love- | Poetry |
| These are the days that Reindeer love | Poetry |
| There's the Battle of Burgoyne- | Poetry |
| There is strength in proving that it can be borne | Poetry |
| There is no Silence in the Earth-so silent | Poetry |
| There is another Loneliness | Poetry |
| There is a Zone whose even Years | Poetry |
| There is a solitude of space | Poetry |
| There comes an hour when begging stops | Poetry |
| There comes a warning like a spy | Poetry |
| There came a Wind like a Bugle- | Poetry |
| Themself are all I have- | Poetry |
| Their dappled importunity | Poetry |
| Their Barricade against the Sky | Poetry |
| The worthlessness of Earthly things | Poetry |
| The Work of Her that went | Poetry |
| The words the happy say | Poetry |
| The Wind took up the Northern Things | Poetry |
| The wind drew off | Poetry |
| The Well upon the Brook | Poetry |
| The Way to know the Bobolink | Poetry |
| The way Hope builds his House | Poetry |
| The waters chased him as he fled | Poetry |
| The Voice that stands for Floods to me | Poetry |
| The Treason of an accent | Poetry |
| The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for | Poetry |
| The things we thought that we should do | Poetry |
| The Things that never can come back, are several- | Poetry |
| The Symptom of the Gale- | Poetry |
| The Sweets of Pillage, can be known | Poetry |
| The Sun went down-no Man looked on- | Poetry |
| The Sun retired to a cloud | Poetry |
| The Sun is one-and on the Tare | Poetry |
| The Sun in reigning to the West | Poetry |
| The Sun and Fog contested | Poetry |
| The Summer that we did not prize | Poetry |
| The Suburbs of a Secret | Poetry |
| The Stimulus, beyond the Grave | Poetry |
| The stem of a departed Flower | Poetry |
| The Stars are old, that stood for me- | Poetry |
| The spry Arms of the Wind | Poetry |
| The Spirit lasts-but in what mode- | Poetry |
| The Spider as an Artist | Poetry |
| The Soul should always stand ajar | Poetry |
| The Snow that never drifts- | Poetry |
| The smouldering embers blush- | Poetry |
| The Sky is low-the Clouds are mean | Poetry |
| The Show is not the Show | Poetry |
| The Sea said "Come" to the Brook- | Poetry |
| The Savior must have been | Poetry |
| The saddest noise, the sweetest noise | Poetry |
| The Robin is a Gabriel | Poetry |
| The Road was lit with Moon and star- | Poetry |
| The Road to Paradise is plain | Poetry |
| The right to perish might be thought | Poetry |
| The Riddle we can guess | Poetry |
| The reticent volcano keeps | Poetry |
| The Rat is the concisest Tenant. | Poetry |
| The pungent atom in the Air | Poetry |
| The Props assist the House | Poetry |
| The Products of my Farm are these | Poetry |
| The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves | Poetry |
| The Popular Heart is a Cannon first- | Poetry |
| The Pile of Years is not so high | Poetry |
| The pattern of the sun | Poetry |
| The Past is such a curious Creature | Poetry |
| The parasol is the umbrella's daughter | Poetry |
| The overtakelessness of those | Poetry |
| The Opening and the Close | Poetry |
| The ones that disappeared are back | Poetry |
| The Notice that is called the Spring | Poetry |
| The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants- | Poetry |
| The murmuring of Bees, has ceased | Poetry |
| The Mountains stood in Haze- | Poetry |
| The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met | Poetry |
| The most pathetic thing I do | Poetry |
| The most important population | Poetry |
| The Moon upon her fluent Route | Poetry |
| The mob within the heart | Poetry |
| The Mind lives on the Heart | Poetry |
| The Merchant of the Picturesque | Poetry |
| The look of thee, what is it like | Poetry |
| The longest day that God appoints | Poetry |
| The long sigh of the Frog | Poetry |
| The Lilac is an ancient shrub | Poetry |
| The Lightning is a yellow Fork | Poetry |
| The Life we have is very great | Poetry |
| The Life that tied too tight escapes | Poetry |
| The last of Summer is Delight- | Poetry |
| The last Night that She lived | Poetry |
| The Lassitudes of Contemplation | Poetry |
| The largest Fire ever known | Poetry |
| The joy that has no stem no core | Poetry |
| The Jay his Castanet has struck | Poetry |
| The inundation of the Spring | Poetry |
| The Infinite a sudden Guest | Poetry |
| The incidents of love | Poetry |
| The immortality she gave | Poetry |
| The Hills in Purple syllables | Poetry |
| The Hills erect their Purple Heads | Poetry |
| The Heart is the Capital of the Mind- | Poetry |
| The Heart has many Doors- | Poetry |
| The healed Heart shows its shallow scar | Poetry |
| The harm of Years is on him- | Poetry |
| The grave my little cottage is | Poetry |
| The going from a world we know | Poetry |
| The gleam of an heroic Act | Poetry |
| The Gentian has a parched Corolla- | Poetry |
| The Frost was never seen- | Poetry |
| The Frost of Death was on the Pane- | Poetry |
| The Flake the Wind exasperate | Poetry |
| The first We knew of Him was Death- | Poetry |
| The fascinating chill that music leaves | Poetry |
| The farthest Thunder that I heard | Poetry |
| The fairest Home I ever knew | Poetry |
| The Fact that Earth is Heaven- | Poetry |
| The Face we choose to miss- | Poetry |
| The Face in evanescence lain | Poetry |
| The event was directly behind Him | Poetry |
| The earth has many keys | Poetry |
| The Dying need but little, Dear | Poetry |
| The duties of the Wind are few | Poetry |
| The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man | Poetry |
| The distance that the dead have gone | Poetry |
| The Devil-had he fidelity | Poetry |
| The Days that we can spare | Poetry |
| The Day she goes | Poetry |
| The Day grew small, surrounded tight | Poetry |
| The Dandelion's pallid tube | Poetry |
| The Crickets sang | Poetry |
| The Clover's simple Fame | Poetry |
| The Clouds their Backs together laid | Poetry |
| The Clock strikes one that just struck two- | Poetry |
| The Butterfly's Numidian Gown | Poetry |
| The Butterfly's Assumption Gown | Poetry |
| The Butterfly upon the Sky | Poetry |
| The butterfly obtains | Poetry |
| The Butterfly in honored Dust | Poetry |
| The Bone that has no Marrow | Poetry |
| The Bobolink is gone- | Poetry |
| The Blunder is in estimate | Poetry |
| The Bird her punctual music brings | Poetry |
| The Bird did prance-the Bee did play- | Poetry |
| The Bible is an antique Volume- | Poetry |
| The Beggar at the Door for Fame | Poetry |
| The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings- | Poetry |
| The Auctioneer of Parting | Poetry |
| That this should feel the need of Death | Poetry |
| That Such have died enable Us | Poetry |
| That short-potential stir | Poetry |
| That she forgot me was the least | Poetry |
| That sacred Closet when you sweep- | Poetry |
| That odd old man is dead a year- | Poetry |
| That Love is all there is | Poetry |
| That it will never come again | Poetry |
| Than Heaven more remote | Poetry |
| Tell as a Marksman-were forgotten | Poetry |
| Tell all the Truth but tell it slant- | Poetry |
| Talk not to me of Summer Trees | Poetry |
| Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy | Poetry |
| Sweet Skepticism of the Heart- | Poetry |
| Sweet Pirate of the heart | Poetry |
| Sweet is the swamp with its secrets | Poetry |
| Sweet hours have perished here; | Poetry |
| Surprise is like a thrilling-pungent- | Poetry |
| Superiority to Fate | Poetry |
| Sunset that screens, reveals- | Poetry |
| Summer-we all have seen- | Poetry |
| Summer laid her simple Hat | Poetry |
| Summer is shorter than any one- | Poetry |
| Summer has two Beginnings- | Poetry |
| Summer begins to have the look | Poetry |
| Such are the inlets of the mind- | Poetry |
| Still own thee-still thou art | Poetry |
| Step lightly on this narrow spot- | Poetry |
| Spring comes on the World- | Poetry |
| Speech is one symptom of Affection | Poetry |
| Somewhere upon the general Earth | Poetry |
| Somewhat, to hope for | Poetry |
| Sometimes with the Heart | Poetry |
| Somehow myself survived the Night | Poetry |
| Some Wretched creature, savior take | Poetry |
| Some we see no more, Tenements of Wonder | Poetry |
| Some say goodnight-at night- | Poetry |
| Some one prepared this mighty show | Poetry |
| Some Days retired from the rest | Poetry |
| Softened by Time's consummate plush | Poetry |
| So much of Heaven has gone from Earth | Poetry |
| So large my Will | Poetry |
| So I pull my Stockings off | Poetry |
| So give me back to Death- | Poetry |
| So gay a Flower | Poetry |
| Silence is all we dread | Poetry |
| She rose as high as His Occasion | Poetry |
| She laid her docile Crescent down | Poetry |
| She could not live upon the Past | Poetry |
| Shame is the shawl of Pink | Poetry |
| Shall I take thee, the Poet said | Poetry |
| September's Baccalaureate | Poetry |
| "Secrets" is a daily word | Poetry |
| Satisfaction-is the Agent | Poetry |
| Sang from the Heart, Sire | Poetry |
| Said Death to Passion | Poetry |
| Safe Despair it is that raves- | Poetry |
| Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun | Poetry |
| Revolution is the Pod | Poetry |
| Reportless Subjects, to the Quick | Poetry |
| Remembrance has a Rear and Front- | Poetry |
| "Remember me" implored the Thief! | Poetry |
| "Red Sea," indeed! Talk not to me | Poetry |
| Recollect the Face of me | Poetry |
| Rearrange a "Wife's" affection! | Poetry |
| Rather arid delight | Poetry |
| Quite empty, quite at rest | Poetry |
| Pursuing you in your transitions | Poetry |
| Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it | Poetry |
| Praise it-'tis dead- | Poetry |
| Power is a familiar growth- | Poetry |
| Pink-small-and punctual- | Poetry |
| Peril as a Possesssion | Poetry |
| Perhaps they do not go so far | Poetry |
| Perception of an object costs | Poetry |
| Pass to they Rendezvous of Light | Poetry |
| Parting with Thee reluctantly | Poetry |
| Paradise is that old mansion | Poetry |
| Paradise is of the option | Poetry |
| Pain has but one Acquaintance | Poetry |
| Ourselves we do inter with sweet derision | Poetry |
| Our own possessions-though our own- | Poetry |
| Our little secrets slink away- | Poetry |
| Opinion is a flitting thing | Poetry |
| One thing of it we borrow | Poetry |
| One of the ones that Midas touched | Poetry |
| One Joy of so much anguish | Poetry |
| One crown that no one seeks | Poetry |
| On the World you colored | Poetry |
| On that specific Pillow | Poetry |
| On my volcano grows the Grass | Poetry |
| Oh what a Grace is this | Poetry |
| Oh Sumptuous moment | Poetry |
| Oh Shadow on the Grass | Poetry |
| Oh, honey of an hour | Poetry |
| Oh give it Motion-deck it sweet | Poetry |
| Oh Future! thou secreted peace | Poetry |
| Of Yellow was the outer Sky | Poetry |
| Of whom so dear | Poetry |
| Of this is Day composed | Poetry |
| Of the Heart that goes in, and closes the Door | Poetry |
| Of so divine a Loss | Poetry |
| Of Paul and Silas it is said | Poetry |
| Of Paradise' existence | Poetry |
| Of Nature I shall have enough | Poetry |
| Of God we ask one favor | Poetry |
| Of Glory not a Beam is left | Poetry |
| Of Death I try to think like this- | Poetry |
| Obtaining but our own Extent | Poetry |
| Now I lay thee down to Sleep- | Poetry |
| Now I knew I lost her- | Poetry |
| Not with a Club, the Heart is broken | Poetry |
| Not to discover weakness is | Poetry |
| Not that he goes-we love him more | Poetry |
| Not so the infinite Relations-Below | Poetry |
| Not Sickness stains the Brave | Poetry |
| Not seeing, still we know- | Poetry |
| Not One by Heaven defrauded stay- | Poetry |
| Not knowing when the Dawn will come | Poetry |
| Not at Home to Callers | Poetry |
| Not any sunny tone | Poetry |
| Not any more to be lacked- | Poetry |
| Not any higher stands the Grave | Poetry |
| None who saw it ever told it | Poetry |
| No Passenger was known to flee- | Poetry |
| No matter where the Saints abide | Poetry |
| No man saw awe, nor to his house | Poetry |
| No Life can pompless pass away- | Poetry |
| No ladder needs the bird but skies | Poetry |
| No Brigadier throughout the Year | Poetry |
| No Autumn's intercepting Chill | Poetry |
| Nature can do no more | Poetry |
| Nature assigns the Sun- | Poetry |
| Nature affects to be sedate | Poetry |
| Myself can read the Telegrams | Poetry |
| My Wars are laid away in Books- | Poetry |
| My Triumph lasted till the Drums | Poetry |
| My Season's furthest Flower- | Poetry |
| My life closed twice before its close- | Poetry |
| My Heart upon a little Plate | Poetry |
| My Heart ran so to thee | Poetry |
| My God-He sees thee- | Poetry |
| My country need not change her gown | Poetry |
| My Cocoon tightens-Colors tease- | Poetry |
| Morning that comes but once | Poetry |
| More than the Grave is closed to me- | Poetry |
| Mine Enemy is growing old- | Poetry |
| Meeting by Accident | Poetry |
| March is the Month of Expectation | Poetry |
| Luck is not chance- | Poetry |
| Love's stricken "why" | Poetry |
| Love is done when Love's begun | Poetry |
| Love can do all but raise the Dead | Poetry |
| Look back on Time, with kindly eyes- | Poetry |
| Longing is like the Seed | Poetry |
| Long Years apart-can make no | Poetry |
| Lives he in any other world | Poetry |
| Like Time's insidious wrinkle | Poetry |
| Like Rain it sounded till it curved | Poetry |
| Like Men and Women Shadows walk | Poetry |
| Like Brooms of Steel | Poetry |
| Lightly stepped a yellow star | Poetry |
| Lift it-with the Feathers | Poetry |
| "Lethe" in my flower | Poetry |
| Let my first Knowing be of thee | Poetry |
| Let me not mar that perfect Dream | Poetry |
| Let down the Bars, Oh Death- | Poetry |
| Lest this be Heaven indeed | Poetry |
| Lest any doubt that we are glad that they were born Today | Poetry |
| Left in immortal Youth | Poetry |
| Lay this Laurel on the One | Poetry |
| Lain in Nature-so suffice us | Poetry |
| Knock with tremor- | Poetry |
| Just Once! Oh least Request! | Poetry |
| Judgment is justest | Poetry |
| I've got an arrow here | Poetry |
| I've dropped my Brain-My Soul is numb- | Poetry |
| Its little Ether Hood | Poetry |
| Its Hour with itself | Poetry |
| It would not know if it were spurned | Poetry |
| It was not Saint-it was too large- | Poetry |
| It was a quiet way- | Poetry |
| It was a quiet seeming Day- | Poetry |
| It stole along so stealthy | Poetry |
| It sounded as if the Streets were running | Poetry |
| It rises-passes-on our South | Poetry |
| It came his turn to beg- | Poetry |
| It came at last but prompter Death | Poetry |
| Is it too late to touch you, Dear? | Poetry |
| Is Heaven a Physician? | Poetry |
| In Winter in my Room | Poetry |
| In thy long Paradise of Light | Poetry |
| In this short Life | Poetry |
| In snow thou comest- | Poetry |
| In many and reportless places | Poetry |
| Immured in Heaven! | Poetry |
| Immortal is an ample word | Poetry |
| Image of Light, Adieu- | Poetry |
| If wrecked upon the Shoal of Thought | Poetry |
| If Nature smiles-the Mother must | Poetry |
| If my Bark sink | Poetry |
| If ever the lid gets off my head | Poetry |
| If all the griefs I am to have | Poetry |
| I'd rather recollect a setting | Poetry |
| I worked for chaff and earning Wheat | Poetry |
| I watcher her face to see which way | Poetry |
| I was a Phoebe-nothing more- | Poetry |
| I took one Draught of Life- | Poetry |
| I thought the Train would never come- | Poetry |
| I thought that nature was enough | Poetry |
| I think that the Root of the Wind is Water- | Poetry |
| I suppose the time will come | Poetry |
| I sued the News-yet feared-the News | Poetry |
| I should not dare to be so sad | Poetry |
| I shall not murmur if at last | Poetry |
| I send you a decrepit flower | Poetry |
| I see thee clearer for the Grave | Poetry |
| I saw the wind within her | Poetry |
| I saw that the Flake was on it | Poetry |
| I noticed People disappeared | Poetry |
| I never saw a Moor- | Poetry |
| I never hear that one is dead | Poetry |
| I know Suspense-it steps so terse | Poetry |
| I know of people in the Grave | Poetry |
| I knew that I had gained | Poetry |
| I heard, as if I had no Ear | Poetry |
| I have no Life but this- | Poetry |
| I had a daily Bliss | Poetry |
| I groped for him before I knew | Poetry |
| I fit for them- | Poetry |
| I did not reach Thee | Poetry |
| I cannot want it more- | Poetry |
| I cannot see my soul but know 'tis there | Poetry |
| I cannot meet the Spring unmoved- | Poetry |
| I bet with every Wind that blew | Poetry |
| I am afraid to own a Body- | Poetry |
| How still the Bells in Steeples stand | Poetry |
| How soft this Prison is | Poetry |
| How soft a Caterpillar steps- | Poetry |
| How ruthless are the gentle- | Poetry |
| How News must feel when travelling | Poetry |
| How much the present moment means | Poetry |
| How much of Source escapes with thee- | Poetry |
| How many schemes may die | Poetry |
| How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights- | Poetry |
| How know it from a Summer's Day? | Poetry |
| How Human Nature dotes | Poetry |
| How happy is the little Stone | Poetry |
| How good his Lava Bed | Poetry |
| How fleet-how indiscreet an one- | Poetry |
| How fits his Umber Coat | Poetry |
| How firm Eternity must look | Poetry |
| How destitute is he | Poetry |
| How dare the robins sing | Poetry |
| How brittle are the Piers | Poetry |
| Hope is a subtle Glutton- | Poetry |
| Hope is a strange invention- | Poetry |
| His voice decrepit was with Joy- | Poetry |
| His oriental heresies | Poetry |
| His mind of man, a secret makes | Poetry |
| His Mind like Fabrics of the East | Poetry |
| His Mansion in the Pool | Poetry |
| His little Hearse like Figure | Poetry |
| His Heart was darker than the starless night | Poetry |
| His Cheek is his Biographer- | Poetry |
| His Bill is clasped-his Eye forsook- | Poetry |
| His Bill an Auger is | Poetry |
| High from the earth I heard a bird | Poetry |
| Here, where the Daisies fit my Head | Poetry |
| Her spirit rose to such a height | Poetry |
| Her sovereign People | Poetry |
| Her Losses make our Gains ashamed- | Poetry |
| Her little Parasol to lift | Poetry |
| Her face was in a bed of hair | Poetry |
| "Heavenly Father"-take to thee | Poetry |
| He went by sleep that drowsy route | Poetry |
| He was my host-he was my guest | Poetry |
| He scanned it-staggered- | Poetry |
| He preached upon "Breadth" till it argued him narrow- | Poetry |
| He lived the Life of Ambush | Poetry |
| He is alive, this morning- | Poetry |
| He ate and drank the precious Words- | Poetry |
| Had we our senses | Poetry |
| Had we known the Ton she bore | Poetry |
| Had this one Day not been | Poetry |
| Had I not seen the Sun | Poetry |
| Had I known that the first was the last | Poetry |
| Guest am I to have | Poetry |
| Great Streets of silence led away | Poetry |
| God made no act without a cause | Poetry |
| God is indeed a jealous God-J | Poetry |
| Go thy great way! | Poetry |
| "Go tell it"-What a Message- | Poetry |
| Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself | Poetry |
| Go not too near a House of Rose- | Poetry |
| Glory is that bright tragic thing | Poetry |
| Glass was the Street-in tinsel Peril | Poetry |
| Gathered into the Earth | Poetry |
| Further in Summer than the Birds | Poetry |
| From his slim Palace in the Dust | Poetry |
| From all the Jails the Boys and Girls | Poetry |
| Frigid and sweet Her parting Face- | Poetry |
| Fortitude incarnate | Poetry |
| Forever honored by the Tree | Poetry |
| Forbidden Fruit a flavor has | Poetry |
| Follow wise Orion | Poetry |
| Floss won't save you from an Abyss | Poetry |
| Few, yet enough | Poetry |
| Fate slew Him, but He did not drop- | Poetry |
| Far from Love the Heavenly Father | Poetry |
| Fame is the one that does not stay- | Poetry |
| Fame is a fickle food | Poetry |
| Fame is a bee | Poetry |
| Falsehood of Thee could I suppose | Poetry |
| "Faithful to the end" Amended | Poetry |
| Facts by our side are never sudden | Poetry |
| Extol thee-could I? Then I will | Poetry |
| Experiment to me | Poetry |
| Experiment escorts us last- | Poetry |
| Expanse cannot be lost- | Poetry |
| Exhilaration is the Breeze | Poetry |
| Except the smaller size | Poetry |
| Estranged from Beauty-none can be- | Poetry |
| Escape is such a thankful Word | Poetry |
| Ended, ere it begun- | Poetry |
| Endanger it, and the Demand | Poetry |
| Elizabeth told Essex | Poetry |
| Elijah's Wagon knew no thill | Poetry |
| Eden is that old-fashioned House | Poetry |
| Each that we lose takes part of us; | Poetry |
| Dying at my music! | Poetry |
| Drowning is not so pitiful | Poetry |
| Dreams are the subtle Dower | Poetry |
| Down Time's quaint stream | Poetry |
| Dominion lasts until obtained- | Poetry |
| Distance-is not the Realm of Fox | Poetry |
| Did We abolish Frost | Poetry |
| Did life's penurious length | Poetry |
| Dew-is the Freshet in the Grass- | Poetry |
| Delight's Despair at setting | Poetry |
| Declaiming Waters none may dread- | Poetry |
| Death's Waylaying not the sharpest | Poetry |
| Death warrants are supposed to be | Poetry |
| Death is the supple Suitor | Poetry |
| Death is like the insect | Poetry |
| Dear March-Come in- | Poetry |
| Crisis is sweet and yet the Heart | Poetry |
| Count not that far that can be had | Poetry |
| Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell | Poetry |
| Could mortal lip divine | Poetry |
| Could Hope inspect her Basis | Poetry |
| Cosmopolities without a plea | Poetry |
| Contained in this short Life | Poetry |
| Consulting summer's clock | Poetry |
| Confirming All who analyze | Poetry |
| Conferring with myself | Poetry |
| Come show thy Durham Breast | Poetry |
| Climbing to reach the costly Hearts | Poetry |
| Circumference thou Bride of Awe | Poetry |
| Candor-my tepid friend- | Poetry |
| By homely gift and hindered Words | Poetry |
| By a departing light | Poetry |
| Brother of Ingots-Ah Peru- | Poetry |
| Blossoms will run away | Poetry |
| Bloom-is Result-to meet a Flower | Poetry |
| Bliss is the plaything of the child- | Poetry |
| Birthday of but a single pang | Poetry |
| Bind me-I still can sing- | Poetry |
| Between the form of Life and Life | Poetry |
| Betrothed to Righteousness might be | Poetry |
| Best Witchcraft is Geometry | Poetry |
| Belshazzar had a Letter- | Poetry |
| Behold this little Bane- | Poetry |
| Before you thought of Spring | Poetry |
| Bees are Black, with Gilt Surcingles- | Poetry |
| Bee! I'm expecting you! | Poetry |
| Because 'twas Riches I could own | Poetry |
| Because that you are going | Poetry |
| Because my Brook is fluent | Poetry |
| Because He loves Her | Poetry |
| Beauty crowds me till I die | Poetry |
| Back from the cordial Grave I drag theed | Poetry |
| Aurora is the effort | Poetry |
| At Half past Three, a single Bird | Poetry |
| Ashes denote that Fire was- | Poetry |
| As willing lid o'er weary eye | Poetry |
| As we pass Houses musing slow | Poetry |
| As Summer into Autumn slips | Poetry |
| As subtle as tomorrow | Poetry |
| As old as Woe- | Poetry |
| As imperceptibly as Grief | Poetry |
| As from the earth the light Balloon | Poetry |
| Art thou the thing I wanted? | Poetry |
| Arrows enamored of his Heart- | Poetry |
| Are Friends Delight or Pain? | Poetry |
| Apparently with no surprise | Poetry |
| An honest Tear | Poetry |
| An Antiquated Tree | Poetry |
| An antiquated Grace | Poetry |
| Alone and in a Circumstance | Poetry |
| All that I do | Poetry |
| All men for Honor hardest work | Poetry |
| Air has no Residence, no Neighbor | Poetry |
| After the Sun comes out | Poetry |
| After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside- | Poetry |
| Advance is Life's condition | Poetry |
| Abraham to kill him- | Poetry |
| Above Oblivion's Tide there is a Pier | Poetry |
| A World made penniless by that departure | Poetry |
| A Word made Flesh is seldom | Poetry |
| A word is dead | Poetry |
| A Word dropped careless on a Page | Poetry |
| A winged spark doth soar about- | Poetry |
| A Wind that rose | Poetry |
| A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds | Poetry |
| A train went through a burial gate | Poetry |
| A stagnant pleasure like a Pool | Poetry |
| A Spider sewed at Night | Poetry |
| A Sparrow took a Slice of Twig | Poetry |
| A soft Sea washed around the House | Poetry |
| A Sloop of Amber slips away | Poetry |
| A single Clover Plank | Poetry |
| A Sickness of this World it most occasions | Poetry |
| A Saucer holds a Cup | Poetry |
| A Route of Evanescence | Poetry |
| A Rat surrendered here | Poetry |
| A prompt-executive Bird is the Jay- | Poetry |
| A Pit-but Heaven over it- | Poetry |
| A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring | Poetry |
| A Mine there is no Man would own | Poetry |
| A little Snow was here and there | Poetry |
| A little overflowing word | Poetry |
| A little Madness in the Spring | Poetry |
| A little Dog that wags his tail | Poetry |
| A lane of Yellow led the eye | Poetry |
| A great Hope fell | Poetry |
| A full fed Rose on meals of Tint | Poetry |
| A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot | Poetry |
| A Field of Stubble, lying sere | Poetry |
| A faded Boy-in sallow Clothes | Poetry |
| A face devoid of love or grace | Poetry |
| A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork | Poetry |
| A Diamond on the Hand | Poetry |
| A Dew sufficed itself- | Poetry |
| A Deed knocks first at Thought | Poetry |
| A curious Cloud surprised the Sky | Poetry |
| A Counterfeit-a Plated Person- | Poetry |
| A chilly Peace infests the Grass | Poetry |
| A Cap of Lead across the sky | Poetry |
| A Bee his burnished Carriage | Poetry |
| Who occupies this House? | Poetry |
| When the Astronomer stops seeking | Poetry |
| When One has given up One's life | Poetry |
| When I have seen the Sun emerge | Poetry |
| What shall I do when the Summer troubles | Poetry |
| What I see not, I better see | Poetry |
| What did They do since I saw Them? | Poetry |
| Wert Thou but ill-that I might show thee | Poetry |
| We'll pass without the parting | Poetry |
| We outgrow love, like other things | Poetry |
| We miss Her, not because We see | Poetry |
| We met as Sparks-Diverging Flints | Poetry |
| We can but follow to the Sun | Poetry |
| "Unto Me?" I do not know you | Poetry |
| Unfulfilled to Observation | Poetry |
| Under the Light, yet under | Poetry |
| Uncertain lease-develops lustre | Poetry |
| Unable are the Loved to die | Poetry |
| Two Travellers perishing in Snow | Poetry |
| Twice had Summer her fair Verdure | Poetry |
| 'Twas Crisis-All the length had passed | Poetry |
| 'Twas awkward, but it fitted me | Poetry |
| Truth-is as old as God | Poetry |
| Too little way the House must lie | Poetry |
| To this World she returned | Poetry |
| To own the Art within the Soul | Poetry |
| To my quick ear the Leaves-conferred | Poetry |
| 'Tis Sunrise-Little Maid-Hast Thou | Poetry |
| 'Tis Anguish grander than Delight | Poetry |
| Till Death-is narrow Loving | Poetry |
| Those who have been in the Grave the longest | Poetry |
| This was in the White of the Year | Poetry |
| This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies | Poetry |
| This Merit hath the worst | Poetry |
| This is a Blossom of the Brain | Poetry |
| This Dust, and its Feature | Poetry |
| This Consciousness that is aware | Poetry |
| This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life | Poetry |
| They won't frown always-some sweet Day | Poetry |
| They ask but our Delight | Poetry |
| These tested Our Horizon | Poetry |
| There is a June when Corn is cut | Poetry |
| There is a finished feeling | Poetry |
| The Wind begun to knead the Grass | Poetry |
| The Veins of other Flowers | Poetry |
| The Sunset stopped on Cottages | Poetry |
| The Sun is gay or stark | Poetry |
| The Sun and Moon must make their haste | Poetry |
| The Soul's distinct connection | Poetry |
| The Robin is the One | Poetry |
| The Robin for the Crumb | Poetry |
| The Poets light but Lamps | Poetry |
| The Only News I know | Poetry |
| The Mountain sat upon the Plain | Poetry |
| The Missing All-prevented Me | Poetry |
| The Luxury to apprehend | Poetry |
| The Leaves like Women interchange | Poetry |
| The Lady feeds Her little Bird | Poetry |
| The Hollows round His eager Eyes | Poetry |
| The Heart has narrow Banks | Poetry |
| The good Will of a Flower | Poetry |
| The first Day that I was a Life | Poetry |
| The Fingers of the Light | Poetry |
| The Dust behind I strove to join | Poetry |
| The Definition of Beauty is | Poetry |
| The Chemical conviction | Poetry |
| The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb | Poetry |
| The Admirations-and Contempts-of time | Poetry |
| That is solemn we have ended | Poetry |
| That Distance was between Us | Poetry |
| Sweet, to have had them lost | Poetry |
| Superfluous were the Sun | Poetry |
| Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning | Poetry |
| Spring is the Period | Poetry |
| Soto! Explore thyself! | Poetry |
| Snow beneath whose chilly softness | Poetry |
| She sped as Petals of a Rose | Poetry |
| Robbed by Death-but that was easy | Poetry |
| Ribbons of the Year | Poetry |
| Purple-is fashionable twice | Poetry |
| Perhaps you think me stooping | Poetry |
| Peace is a fiction of our Faith | Poetry |
| Patience-has a quiet Outer | Poetry |
| Pain-expands the Time | Poetry |
| Our little Kinsmen-after Rain | Poetry |
| Only a Shrine, but Mine | Poetry |
| One Day is there of the Series | Poetry |
| On that dear Frame the Years had worn | Poetry |
| Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? | Poetry |
| Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe | Poetry |
| Of Consciousness, her awful Mate | Poetry |
| Not that We did, shall be the test | Poetry |
| Not all die early, dying young | Poetry |
| Noon-is the Hinge of Day | Poetry |
| No Other can reduce | Poetry |
| Nature and God-I neither knew | Poetry |
| My best Acquaintances are those | Poetry |
| Midsummer, was it, when They died | Poetry |
| Love reckons by itself-alone | Poetry |
| Love-is that later Thing than Death | Poetry |
| Love-is anterior to Life | Poetry |
| Light is sufficient to itself | Poetry |
| Just as He spoke it from his Hands | Poetry |
| I've none to tell me to but Thee | Poetry |
| It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone | Poetry |
| It is an honorable Thought | Poetry |
| It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon | Poetry |
| Impossibility, like Wine | Poetry |
| If I can stop one Heart from breaking | Poetry |
| Ideals are the Fairly Oil | Poetry |
| I sing to use the Waiting | Poetry |
| I make His Crescent fill or lack | Poetry |
| I made slow Riches but my Gain | Poetry |
| I learned-at least-what Home could be | Poetry |
| I hide myself within my flower | Poetry |
| I could not drink it, Sweet | Poetry |
| I cannot buy it-'tis not sold | Poetry |
| I cannot be ashamed | Poetry |
| How well I knew Her not | Poetry |
| How the Waters closed above Him | Poetry |
| How happy I was if I could forget | Poetry |
| How fortunate the Grave | Poetry |
| How far is it to Heaven? | Poetry |
| His Feet are shod with Gauze | Poetry |
| Herein a Blossom lies | Poetry |
| Her Grace is all she has- | Poetry |
| He who in Himself believes | Poetry |
| He outstripped Time with but a Bout | Poetry |
| Had I not This, or This, I said | Poetry |
| Gratitude-is not the mention | Poetry |
| Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! | Poetry |
| Given in Marriage unto Thee | Poetry |
| From Us She wandered now a Year | Poetry |
| Fitter to see Him, I may be | Poetry |
| Finite-to fail, but infinite to Venture | Poetry |
| Finding is the first Act | Poetry |
| Fame is the tine that Scholars leave | Poetry |
| Faith-is the Pierless Bridge | Poetry |
| Fairer through Fading-as the Day | Poetry |
| Experience is the Angled Road | Poetry |
| Escaping backward to perceive | Poetry |
| Each Second is the last | Poetry |
| Each Scar I'll keep for Him | Poetry |
| Dying! To be afraid of thee | Poetry |
| Drab Habitation of Whom? | Poetry |
| Denial-is the only fact | Poetry |
| Death leaves Us homesick, who behind | Poetry |
| Death is a Dialogue between | Poetry |
| Crumbling is not an instant's Act | Poetry |
| Crisis is a Hair | Poetry |
| Between My Country-and the Others | Poetry |
| Best Things dwell out of Sight | Poetry |
| Besides this May | Poetry |
| Before He comes we weigh the Time! | Poetry |
| Because the Bee may blameless hum | Poetry |
| Banish Air from Air- | Poetry |
| Away from Home are some and I- | Poetry |
| As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies | Poetry |
| As Sleigh Bells seem in summer | Poetry |
| As plan for Noon and plan for Night | Poetry |
| As One does Sickness over | Poetry |
| As Frost is best conceived | Poetry |
| As Everywhere of Silver | Poetry |
| Apology for Her | Poetry |
| And this of all my Hopes | Poetry |
| Ample make this Bed | Poetry |
| Always Mine! | Poetry |
| All I may, if small | Poetry |
| All forgot for recollecting | Poetry |
| All Circumstances are the Frame | Poetry |
| Absent Place-an April Day | Poetry |
| Absence disembodies-so does Death | Poetry |
| A Shade upon the mind there passes | Poetry |
| A nearness to Tremendousness | Poetry |
| A Moth the hue of this | Poetry |
| A Man may make a Remark | Poetry |
| A loss of something ever felt I | Poetry |
| A doubt if it be Us | Poetry |
| A Death blow is a Life blow to Some | Poetry |
| A Coffin-is a small Domain | Poetry |
| A Cloud withdrew from the Sky | Poetry |
| You've seen Balloons set-Haven't You? | Poetry |
| You'll know Her-by Her Foot | Poetry |
| You taught me Waiting with Myself | Poetry |
| You said that I "was Great"-one Day | Poetry |
| You left me-Sire-two Legacies | Poetry |
| You constituted Time | Poetry |
| Would you like summer? Taste of ours | Poetry |
| Wolfe demanded during dying | Poetry |
| Without this-there is nought | Poetry |
| Whole Gulfs-of Red, and Fleets-of Red | Poetry |
| Who Giants know, with lesser Men | Poetry |
| Who Court obtain within Himself | Poetry |
| Where Thou art-that-is Home | Poetry |
| When I hoped, I recollect | Poetry |
| When Bells stop ringing-Church-begins | Poetry |
| We thirst at first-'tis Nature's Act | Poetry |
| Victory comes late | Poetry |
| Upon Concluded Lives | Poetry |
| 'Twould ease-a Butterfly | Poetry |
| Two-were immortal twice | Poetry |
| To wait an Hour-is long | Poetry |
| To offer brave assistance | Poetry |
| To my small Hearth His fire came | Poetry |
| To be alive-is Power | Poetry |
| 'Tis good-the looking back on Grief | Poetry |
| Time feels so vast that were it not | Poetry |
| Through the strait pass of suffering | Poetry |
| This that would greet-an hour ago | Poetry |
| This Bauble was preferred of Bees | Poetry |
| They say that "Time assuages" | Poetry |
| They have a little Odor-that to me | Poetry |
| These-saw Visions | Poetry |
| There is an arid Pleasure | Poetry |
| Their Height in Heaven comforts not | Poetry |
| The Zeroes-taught us-Phosphorous | Poetry |
| The World-feels Dusty | Poetry |
| The Whole of it came not at once | Poetry |
| The Way I read a Letter's-this | Poetry |
| The Truth-is stirless | Poetry |
| The Sunrise runs for Both | Poetry |
| The Sun kept setting-setting-still | Poetry |
| The Spirit is the Conscious Ear | Poetry |
| The Soul unto itself | Poetry |
| The Soul that hath a Guest | Poetry |
| The Service without Hope | Poetry |
| The name-of it-is "Autumn" | Poetry |
| The Mountains-grow unnoticed | Poetry |
| The Moon was but a Chin of Gold | Poetry |
| The Love a Life can show Below | Poetry |
| The Loneliness One dare not sound | Poetry |
| The Judge is like the Owl | Poetry |
| The Heaven vests for Each | Poetry |
| The hallowing of Pain | Poetry |
| The Grace-Myself-might not obtain | Poetry |
| The Future-never spoke | Poetry |
| The Day undressed-Herself | Poetry |
| The Color of a Queen, is this | Poetry |
| The Child's faith is new | Poetry |
| The Birds reported from the South | Poetry |
| The Birds begun at Four o'clock | Poetry |
| The Beggar Lad-dies early | Poetry |
| That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet | Poetry |
| Sweet Mountains-Ye tell Me no lie | Poetry |
| Suspense-is Hostiler than Death | Poetry |
| Such is the Force of Happiness | Poetry |
| Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds | Poetry |
| Soil of Flint, if steady tilled | Poetry |
| So the Eyes accost-and sunder | Poetry |
| So set its Sun in Thee | Poetry |
| So much Summer | Poetry |
| Size circumscribes-it has no room | Poetry |
| Shells from the Coast mistaking | Poetry |
| She staked her Feathers-Gained an Arc | Poetry |
| She rose to His Requirement | Poetry |
| She dwelleth in the Ground | Poetry |
| Severer Service of myself | Poetry |
| Rest at Night | Poetry |
| Promise This-When You be Dying | Poetry |
| Presentiment-is that long Shadow-on the Lawn | Poetry |
| Precious to Me-She still shall be | Poetry |
| Pain-has an Element of Blank | Poetry |
| Out of sight? What of that? | Poetry |
| Ourselves were wed one summer-dear | Poetry |
| One need not be a Chamber-to be Haunted | Poetry |
| One Blessing had I than the rest | Poetry |
| One and One-are One | Poetry |
| Of Being is a Bird | Poetry |
| None can experience sting | Poetry |
| No Romance sold unto | Poetry |
| No Notice gave She, but a Change | Poetry |
| No matter-now-Sweet | Poetry |
| No Bobolink-reverse His Singing | Poetry |
| Never for Society | Poetry |
| Nature-the Gentlest Mother is | Poetry |
| "Nature" is what we see | Poetry |
| My Worthiness is all my Doubt | Poetry |
| My Soul-accused me-And I quailed | Poetry |
| My Portion is Defeat-today | Poetry |
| My Faith is larger than the Hills | Poetry |
| Most she touched me by her muteness | Poetry |
| Me from Myself-to banish | Poetry |
| Life-is what we make of it | Poetry |
| Life, and Death, and Giants | Poetry |
| Let Us play Yesterday | Poetry |
| Least Bee that brew | Poetry |
| Joy to have merited the Pain | Poetry |
| It's easy to invent a Life | Poetry |
| It tossed-and tossed | Poetry |
| It is a lonesome Glee | Poetry |
| It dropped so low-in my Regard | Poetry |
| I'll send the feather from my Hat! | Poetry |
| If He were living-dare I ask | Poetry |
| If Blame be my side-forfeit Me | Poetry |
| "I want"-it pleaded-All its life | Poetry |
| I think to Live-may be a Bliss | Poetry |
| I sometimes drop it, for a Quick | Poetry |
| I play at Riches-to appease | Poetry |
| I meant to find Her when I came | Poetry |
| I many times thought Peace had come | Poetry |
| I lived on Dread | Poetry |
| I could suffice for Him, I knew | Poetry |
| I could bring You Jewels-had I a mind to | Poetry |
| Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead | Poetry |
| Her final Summer was it | Poetry |
| He told a homely tale | Poetry |
| He fought like those Who've nought to lose | Poetry |
| Have any like Myself | Poetry |
| Growth of Man-like Growth of Nature | Poetry |
| Grief is a Mouse | Poetry |
| God gave a Loaf to every Bird | Poetry |
| From Blank to Blank | Poetry |
| Four Trees-upon a solitary Acre | Poetry |
| Fame of Myself, to justify | Poetry |
| Expectation-is Contentment | Poetry |
| Essential Oils-are wrung | Poetry |
| Embarrassment of one another | Poetry |
| Dropped into the Ether Acre | Poetry |
| Drama's Vitallest Expression is the Common Day | Poetry |
| Despair's advantage is achieved | Poetry |
| Deprived of other Banquet | Poetry |
| Could I but ride indefinite | Poetry |
| Conscious am I in my Chamber | Poetry |
| By my Window have I for Scenery | Poetry |
| Bloom upon the Mountain-stated | Poetry |
| Bereavement in their death to feel | Poetry |
| Bereaved of all, I went abroad | Poetry |
| Behind Me-dips Eternity | Poetry |
| Autumn-overlooked my Knitting | Poetry |
| As if the Sea should part | Poetry |
| Alter! When the Hills do | Poetry |
| All but Death, can be Adjusted | Poetry |
| Ah, Teneriffe! | Poetry |
| A Thought went up my mind today | Poetry |
| A South Wind-has a pathos | Poetry |
| A Prison gets to be a friend | Poetry |
| A Planted Life-diversified | Poetry |
| A long-long Sleep-A famous-Sleep | Poetry |
| A little Road-not made of Man | Poetry |
| A first Mute Coming | Poetry |
| You'll find-it when you try to die | Poetry |
| When I was small, a Woman died | Poetry |
| What care the Dead, for Chanticleer | Poetry |
| We talked as Girls do | Poetry |
| We learned the Whole of Love | Poetry |
| Unto my Books-so good to turn | Poetry |
| 'Twas a long Parting-but the time | Poetry |
| Trust in the Unexpected | Poetry |
| To know just how He suffered-would be dear | Poetry |
| To interrupt His Yellow Plan | Poetry |
| To fill a Gap | Poetry |
| 'Tis One by One-the Father counts | Poetry |
| Three times-we parted-Breath-and I | Poetry |
| They called me to the Window, for | Poetry |
| There is a Shame of Nobleness | Poetry |
| There is a pain-so utter | Poetry |
| The Trees like Tassels-hit-and swung | Poetry |
| The Tint I cannot take-is best | Poetry |
| The Test of Love-is Death | Poetry |
| The Night was wide, and furnished scant | Poetry |
| The Martyr Poets-did not tell | Poetry |
| The Lightning playeth-all the while | Poetry |
| The Brain, within its Groove | Poetry |
| The Body grows without | Poetry |
| The Black Berry-wears a Thorn in his side | Poetry |
| The Battle fought between the Soul | Poetry |
| That I did always love | Poetry |
| She hideth Her the last | Poetry |
| Our journey had advanced | Poetry |
| Only God-detect the Sorrow | Poetry |
| One Crucifixion is recorded-only | Poetry |
| One Anguish-in a Crowd | Poetry |
| Of nearness to her sundered Things | Poetry |
| Of Brussels-it was not | Poetry |
| My period had come for Prayer | Poetry |
| My first well Day-since many ill | Poetry |
| Must be a Woe | Poetry |
| Like Mighty Foot Lights-burned the Red | Poetry |
| I've seen a Dying Eye | Poetry |
| It would have starved a Gnat | Poetry |
| It was too late for Man | Poetry |
| It troubled me as once I was | Poetry |
| It makes no difference abroad | Poetry |
| It knew no Medicine | Poetry |
| It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation | Poetry |
| It ceased to hurt me, though so slow | Poetry |
| It always felt to me-a wrong | Poetry |
| Inconceivably solemn! | Poetry |
| In falling Timbers buried | Poetry |
| If I may have it, when it's dead | Poetry |
| I Years had been from Home | Poetry |
| I watched the Moon around the House | Poetry |
| I think I was enchanted | Poetry |
| I see thee better-in the Dark | Poetry |
| I rose-because He sank | Poetry |
| I prayed, at first, a little Girl | Poetry |
| I had no Cause to be awake | Poetry |
| I had been hungry, all the Years | Poetry |
| I gave myself to Him | Poetry |
| I found the words to every thought | Poetry |
| I fear a Man of frugal Speech | Poetry |
| I cross till I am weary | Poetry |
| I cried at Pity-not at Pain | Poetry |
| I could not prove the Years had feet | Poetry |
| I could die-to know | Poetry |
| I asked no other thing | Poetry |
| "Heaven" has different Signs-to me | Poetry |
| He gave away his Life | Poetry |
| He found my Being-set it up | Poetry |
| Glee-The great storm is over | Poetry |
| Forever-it composed of Nows | Poetry |
| Empty my Heart, of Thee | Poetry |
| Don't put up my Thread and Needle | Poetry |
| Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth | Poetry |
| Delight-becomes pictorial | Poetry |
| Death is potential to that Man | Poetry |
| Conjecturing a Climate | Poetry |
| But little Carmine hath her face | Poetry |
| At leisure is the Soul | Poetry |
| An ignorance a Sunset | Poetry |
| Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? | Poetry |
| A Toad, can die of Light | Poetry |
| A still-Volcano-Life | Poetry |
| A Dying Tiger-moaned for Drink | Poetry |
| You're right-"the way is narrow" | Poetry |
| Your Riches-taught me-Poverty | Poetry |
| You'll know it-as you know 'tis Noon | Poetry |
| You love the Lord-you cannot see | Poetry |
| You know that Portrait in the Moon | Poetry |
| You see I cannot see-your lifetime | Poetry |
| You cannot put a Fire out | Poetry |
| Within my reach! | Poetry |
| Within my Garden, rides a Bird | Poetry |
| With thee, in the Desert | Poetry |
| Will there really be a "Morning"? | Poetry |
| Why make it doubt-it hurts it so | Poetry |
| Why-do they shut Me out of Heaven? | Poetry |
| "Why do I love" You, Sir? | Poetry |
| Whose cheek is this? | Poetry |
| Whose are the little beds, I asked | Poetry |
| Who never lost, are unprepared | Poetry |
| While it is alive | Poetry |
| While Asters- | Poetry |
| Where Ships of Purple-gently toss | Poetry |
| Where I have lost, I softer tread | Poetry |
| Where bells no more affright the morn | Poetry |
| When we stand on the tops of Things | Poetry |
| When Night is almost done | Poetry |
| When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side | Poetry |
| When Diamonds are a Legend | Poetry |
| What Soft-Cherubic Creatures | Poetry |
| What shall I do-it whimpers so | Poetry |
| What is-"Paradise" | Poetry |
| What Inn is this | Poetry |
| What if I say I shall not wait! | Poetry |
| What I can do-I will | Poetry |
| Went up a year this evening! | Poetry |
| We should not mind so small a flower | Poetry |
| We see-Comparatively | Poetry |
| We pray-to Heaven | Poetry |
| We play at Paste | Poetry |
| We dream-it is good we are dreaming | Poetry |
| We don't cry-Tim and I | Poetry |
| We do not play on Graves | Poetry |
| We Cover Thee-Sweet Face | Poetry |
| Water, is taught by thirst | Poetry |
| Wait till the Majesty of Death | Poetry |
| Unto like Story-Trouble has enticed me | Poetry |
| Unit, like Death, for Whom? | Poetry |
| Undue Significance a starving man attaches | Poetry |
| Two swimmers wrestled on the spar | Poetry |
| 'Twas warm-at first-like Us | Poetry |
| 'Twas the old-road-through pain | Poetry |
| Twas such a little-little boat | Poetry |
| 'Twas Love-not me | Poetry |
| 'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch | Poetry |
| 'Twas just this time, last year, I died | Poetry |
| Triumph-may be of several kinds | Poetry |
| To put this World down, like a Bundle | Poetry |
| To One denied the drink | Poetry |
| To make One's Toilette-after Death | Poetry |
| To love thee Year by Year | Poetry |
| To lose one's faith-surpass | Poetry |
| To learn the Transport by the Pain | Poetry |
| To hear an Oriole sing | Poetry |
| To hang our head-ostensibly | Poetry |
| To die-takes just a little while | Poetry |
| 'Tis true-They shut me in the Cold | Poetry |
| 'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy! | Poetry |
| 'Tis so appalling-it exhilarates | Poetry |
| 'Tis Opposites-entice | Poetry |
| 'Tis not that Dying hurts us so | Poetry |
| 'Tis little I-could care for Pearls | Poetry |
| 'Tis customary as we part | Poetry |
| Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord | Poetry |
| Through the Dark Sod-as Education | Poetry |
| Those fair-fictitious People | Poetry |
| Tho' my destiny be Fustian | Poetry |
| Tho' I get home how late-how late | Poetry |
| This World is not Conclusion | Poetry |
| This was a Poet-It is That | Poetry |
| This-is the land-the Sunset washes | Poetry |
| This heart that broke so long | Poetry |
| They put Us far apart | Poetry |
| They leave us with the Infinite | Poetry |
| "They have not chosen me," he said | Poetry |
| These are the days when Birds come back | Poetry |
| There's been a Death, in the Opposite House | Poetry |
| There is a Languor of the Life | Poetry |
| There is a flower that Bees prefer | Poetry |
| There came a Day at Summer's full | Poetry |
| There are two Ripenings-one-of sight | Poetry |
| The World-stands-solemner-to me | Poetry |
| The Winters are so short | Poetry |
| The Wind-tapped like a tired Man | Poetry |
| The Wind didn't come from the Orchard-today | Poetry |
| The sweetest Heresy received | Poetry |
| The Sun kept stooping-stooping | Poetry |
| The Soul's Superior instants | Poetry |
| The Soul has Bandaged moments | Poetry |
| The Skies can't keep their secret! | Poetry |
| The Rose did caper on her cheek | Poetry |
| The Robin's my Criterion for Tune | Poetry |
| The Red-Blaze-is the Morning | Poetry |
| The rainbow never tells me | Poetry |
| The Province of the Saved | Poetry |
| The power to be true to You | Poetry |
| The Outer-from the Inner | Poetry |
| The One who could repeat the Summer day | Poetry |
| The Murmur of a Bee | Poetry |
| The Morning after Woe | Poetry |
| The Moon is distant from the Sea | Poetry |
| The Months have ends-the Years-a knot | Poetry |
| The Manner of its Death | Poetry |
| The Malay-took the Pearl | Poetry |
| The lonesome for they know not What | Poetry |
| The Lamp burns sure-within | Poetry |
| The Himmaleh was known to stoop | Poetry |
| The Grass so little has to do | Poetry |
| The Flower must not blame the Bee | Poetry |
| The first Day's Night had come | Poetry |
| The face I carry with me-last | Poetry |
| The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea | Poetry |
| The Doomed-regard the Sunrise | Poetry |
| The difference between Despair | Poetry |
| The Day that I was crowned | Poetry |
| The Day came slow-till Five o'clock | Poetry |
| The Daisy follows soft the Sun | Poetry |
| The Court is far away | Poetry |
| The Color of the Grave is Green | Poetry |
| The Bee is not afraid of me | Poetry |
| The Angle of a Landscape | Poetry |
| That after Horror-that 'twas us | Poetry |
| Teach Him-When He makes the names | Poetry |
| Talk with prudence to a Beggar | Poetry |
| Taking up the fair Ideal | Poetry |
| Take your Heaven further on | Poetry |
| Sweet-You forgot-but I remembered | Poetry |
| Sweet-safe-Houses | Poetry |
| Surgeons must be very careful | Poetry |
| Sunset at Night-is natural | Poetry |
| South Winds jostle them | Poetry |
| Soul, Wilt thou toss again? | Poetry |
| Some-Work for Immortality | Poetry |
| Some, too fragile for winter winds | Poetry |
| Some things that fly there be | Poetry |
| Some such Butterfly be seen | Poetry |
| Some Rainbow-coming from the Fair! | Poetry |
| So well that I can live without | Poetry |
| So glad we are-a Stranger'd deem | Poetry |
| So from the mould | Poetry |
| So bashful when I spied her! | Poetry |
| Smiling back from Coronation | Poetry |
| Should you but fail at-Sea | Poetry |
| She's happy, with a new Content | Poetry |
| She went as quiet as the Dew | Poetry |
| She sweeps with many-colored Brooms | Poetry |
| She sights a Bird-she chuckles | Poetry |
| She lay as if at play | Poetry |
| She died-this was the way she died | Poetry |
| She died at play | Poetry |
| She dealt her pretty words like Blades | Poetry |
| She bore it till the simple veins | Poetry |
| Sexton! My Master's sleeping here | Poetry |
| Reverse cannot befall | Poetry |
| Removed from Accident of Loss | Poetry |
| Rehearsal to Ourselves | Poetry |
| Read-Sweet-how others-strove | Poetry |
| Put up my lute! | Poetry |
| Prayer is the little implement | Poetry |
| Portraits are to daily faces | Poetry |
| Poor little Heart! | Poetry |
| Pigmy seraphs-gone astray | Poetry |
| Papa above! | Poetry |
| Over the fence | Poetry |
| Over and over, like a Tune | Poetry |
| Our share of night to bear | Poetry |
| One Year ago-jots what? | Poetry |
| One dignity delays for all | Poetry |
| On this long storm the Rainbow rose | Poetry |
| On such a night, or such a night | Poetry |
| Of Tribulation, these are They | Poetry |
| Of Course-I prayed | Poetry |
| Of Bronze-and Blaze | Poetry |
| Of all the Sounds despatched abroad | Poetry |
| Not probable-The barest Chance | Poetry |
| No Rack can torture me | Poetry |
| No Man can compass a Despair | Poetry |
| No Crowd that has occurred | Poetry |
| New feet within my garden go | Poetry |
| Nature-sometimes sears a Sapling | Poetry |
| Myself was formed-a Carpenter | Poetry |
| My River runs to thee | Poetry |
| My Reward for Being, was This | Poetry |
| My nosegays are for Captives | Poetry |
| My Garden-like the Beach | Poetry |
| My friend must be a Bird | Poetry |
| My friend attacks my friend! | Poetry |
| My Eye is fuller than my vase | Poetry |
| Mute thy Coronation | Poetry |
| Musicians wrestle everywhere | Poetry |
| "Morning"-means "Milking"-to the Farmer | Poetry |
| Morning-is the place for Dew | Poetry |
| More Life-went out-when He went | Poetry |
| Me prove it now-Whoever doubt | Poetry |
| Me-come! My dazzled face | Poetry |
| Me, change! Me, alter! | Poetry |
| Many cross the Rhine | Poetry |
| Many a phrase has the English language | Poetry |
| Mama never forgets her birds | Poetry |
| Make me a picture of the sun | Poetry |
| Low at my problem bending | Poetry |
| Love-thou art high | Poetry |
| Like Some Old fashioned Miracle | Poetry |
| Like her the Saints retire | Poetry |
| Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews | Poetry |
| Like eyes that looked on Wastes | Poetry |
| Knows how to forget! | Poetry |
| Kill your Balm-and its Odors bless you | Poetry |
| Just so-Jesus-raps | Poetry |
| Just lost, when I was saved! | Poetry |
| Jesus! thy Crucifix | Poetry |
| I've nothing else-to bring, You know | Poetry |
| I've known a Heaven, like a Tent | Poetry |
| I've heard an Organ talk, sometimes | Poetry |
| It's thoughts-and just One Heart | Poetry |
| It's such a little thing to weep | Poetry |
| It's like the Light | Poetry |
| It's coming-the postponeless Creature | Poetry |
| It would never be Common-more-I said | Poetry |
| It will be Summer-eventually | Poetry |
| It was not Death, for I stood up | Poetry |
| It was given to me by the Gods | Poetry |
| It struck me-every Day | Poetry |
| It sifts from Leaden Sieves | Poetry |
| It might be lonelier | Poetry |
| It is easy to work when the soul is at play | Poetry |
| It feels a shame to be Alive | Poetry |
| It don't sound so terrible-quite-as it did | Poetry |
| It can't be "Summer"! | Poetry |
| Is it true, dear Sue? | Poetry |
| Is it dead-Find it | Poetry |
| Is Bliss then, such Abyss | Poetry |
| In rags mysterious as these | Poetry |
| In lands I never saw-they say | Poetry |
| In Ebon Box, when years have flown | Poetry |
| I'm "wife"-I've finished that | Poetry |
| I'm the little "Heart's Ease" | Poetry |
| I'm sorry for the Dead-Today | Poetry |
| I'm saying every day | Poetry |
| I'm ceded-I've stopped being Theirs | Poetry |
| I'll tell you how the Sun rose | Poetry |
| I'll clutch-and clutch | Poetry |
| If your Nerve, deny you | Poetry |
| If you were coming in the Fall | Poetry |
| If What we could-were what we would | Poetry |
| If this is "fading" | Poetry |
| If pain for peace prepares | Poetry |
| If I'm lost-now | Poetry |
| If I shouldn't be alive | Poetry |
| If I could bribe them by a Rose | Poetry |
| If anybody's friend be dead | Poetry |
| If any sink, assure that this, now standing | Poetry |
| I went to thank Her | Poetry |
| I went to Heaven | Poetry |
| I tried to think a lonelier Thing | Poetry |
| I took my Power in my Hand | Poetry |
| I tie my Hat-I crease my Shawl | Poetry |
| I think the Hemlock likes to stand | Poetry |
| I tend my flowers for thee | Poetry |
| I started Early-Took my Dog | Poetry |
| I showed her Heights she never saw | Poetry |
| I should not dare to leave my friend | Poetry |
| I should have been too glad, I see | Poetry |
| I shall keep singing! | Poetry |
| I send Two Sunsets | Poetry |
| I saw no Way-The Heavens were stitched | Poetry |
| I read my sentence-steadily | Poetry |
| I pay-in Satin Cash | Poetry |
| I never felt at Home-Below | Poetry |
| I met a King this afternoon! | Poetry |
| I meant to have but modest needs | Poetry |
| I lost a World - the other day! | Poetry |
| I live with Him-I see His face | Poetry |
| I know where Wells grow-Droughtless Wells | Poetry |
| I know that He exists | Poetry |
| I know some lonely Houses off the Road | Poetry |
| I know lives, I could miss | Poetry |
| I held a Jewel in my fingers | Poetry |
| I have never seen "Volcanoes" | Poetry |
| I have a King, who does not speak | Poetry |
| I had the Glory-that will do | Poetry |
| I had some things that I called mine | Poetry |
| I had not minded-Walls | Poetry |
| I had no time to Hate | Poetry |
| I got so I could take his name | Poetry |
| I gained it so | Poetry |
| I felt my life with both my hands | Poetry |
| I envy Seas, whereon He rides | Poetry |
| I dreaded that first Robin, so | Poetry |
| I cautious, scanned my little life | Poetry |
| I can't tell you-but you feel it | Poetry |
| I cannot dance upon my Toes | Poetry |
| I can wade Grief | Poetry |
| I Came to buy a smile-today | Poetry |
| I bring an unaccustomed wine | Poetry |
| I breathed enough to take the Trick | Poetry |
| I am ashamed-I hide | Poetry |
| I am alive-I guess | Poetry |
| How the old Mountains drip with Sunset | Poetry |
| How sick-to wait-in any place-but thine | Poetry |
| How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand | Poetry |
| How many times these low feet staggered | Poetry |
| How many Flowers fail in Wood | Poetry |
| "Houses"-so the Wise Men tell me | Poetry |
| Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night | Poetry |
| Her smile was shaped like other smiles | Poetry |
| Her-"last Poems" | Poetry |
| Her breast is fit for pearls | Poetry |
| "Heaven"-is what I cannot reach! | Poetry |
| Heaven is so far of the Mind | Poetry |
| Heart, not so heavy as mine | Poetry |
| He was weak, and I was strong-then | Poetry |
| He touched me, so I live to know | Poetry |
| He strained my faith | Poetry |
| He put the Belt around my life | Poetry |
| He parts Himself-like Leaves | Poetry |
| He fumbles at your Soul | Poetry |
| He forgot-and I-remembered | Poetry |
| Have you got a Brook in your little heart | Poetry |
| Had I presumed to hope | Poetry |
| Great Caesar! Condescend | Poetry |
| Good night, because we must | Poetry |
| Good Morning-Midnight | Poetry |
| Going to Him! Happy letter! | Poetry |
| Going to Heaven! | Poetry |
| God permits industrious Angels | Poetry |
| God made a little Gentian | Poetry |
| God is a distant-stately Lover | Poetry |
| Glowing is her Bonnet | Poetry |
| Give little Anguish | Poetry |
| Funny-to be a Century | Poetry |
| From Cocoon forth a Butterfly | Poetry |
| Forget! The lady with the Amulet | Poetry |
| Forever at His side to walk | Poetry |
| For this-accepted Breath | Poetry |
| For largest Woman's Hearth I knew | Poetry |
| For every Bird a Nest | Poetry |
| For Death-or rather | Poetry |
| Flowers-Well-if anybody | Poetry |
| Exultation is the going | Poetry |
| Exhilaration-is within | Poetry |
| Except to Heaven, she is nought | Poetry |
| Except the Heaven had come so near | Poetry |
| Endow the Living-with the Tears | Poetry |
| Dying! Dying in the night! | Poetry |
| Dust is the only Secret | Poetry |
| Dreams-are well-but Waking's better | Poetry |
| Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! | Poetry |
| Doom is the House without the Door | Poetry |
| Do People moulder equally | Poetry |
| Did we disobey Him? | Poetry |
| Did Our Best Moment last | Poetry |
| Departed-to the Judgment | Poetry |
| Delight is as the flight | Poetry |
| Delayed till she had ceased to know | Poetry |
| Death sets a Thing significant | Poetry |
| Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? | Poetry |
| Could-I do more-for Thee | Poetry |
| Come slowly-Eden! | Poetry |
| Cocoon above! Cocoon below! | Poetry |
| Civilization-spurns-the Leopard! | Poetry |
| By a flower-By a letter | Poetry |
| Bring me the sunset in a cup | Poetry |
| Bound-a trouble | Poetry |
| Bless God, he went as soldiers | Poetry |
| Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple | Poetry |
| Better-than Music! For I-who heard it | Poetry |
| Besides the Autumn poets sing | Poetry |
| Before I got my eye put out | Poetry |
| Beauty-be not caused-It Is | Poetry |
| At least-to pray-is left-is left | Poetry |
| At last, to be identified! | Poetry |
| As Watchers hang upon the East | Poetry |
| As if some little Arctic flower | Poetry |
| As if I asked a common Alms | Poetry |
| As far from pity, as complaint | Poetry |
| As Children bid the Guest "Good Night" | Poetry |
| As by the dead we love to sit | Poetry |
| Artists wrestled here! | Poetry |
| "Arcturus" is his other name | Poetry |
| Answer July | Poetry |
| Angels, in the early morning | Poetry |
| An awful Tempest mashed the air | Poetry |
| An altered look about the hills | Poetry |
| Ambition cannot find him | Poetry |
| Although I put away his life | Poetry |
| Alone, I cannot be | Poetry |
| All the letters I can write | Poetry |
| All overgrown by cunning moss | Poetry |
| Ah, Necromancy Sweet! | Poetry |
| Ah, Moon-and Star! | Poetry |
| A Wife-at daybreak I shall be | Poetry |
| A Weight with Needles on the pounds | Poetry |
| A Visitor in Marl | Poetry |
| A transport one cannot contain | Poetry |
| A Tooth upon Our Peace | Poetry |
| A Tongue-to tell Him I am true! | Poetry |
| A throe upon the features | Poetry |
| A something in a summer's Day | Poetry |
| A Solemn thing within the Soul | Poetry |
| A solemn thing-it was-I said | Poetry |
| A slash of Blue | Poetry |
| A single Screw of Flesh | Poetry |
| A shady friend-for Torrid days | Poetry |
| A Secret told | Poetry |
| A science-so the Savants say | Poetry |
| A precious-mouldering pleasure | Poetry |
| A poor-torn heart-a tattered heart | Poetry |
| A Night-there lay the Days between | Poetry |
| A Murmur in the Trees-to note | Poetry |
| A Mien to move a Queen | Poetry |
| A little East of Jordan | Poetry |
| A little bread-a crust-a crumb | Poetry |
| A Lady red-amid the Hill | Poetry |
| A House upon the Height | Poetry |
| A happy lip-breaks sudden | Poetry |
| A fuzzy fellow, without feet | Poetry |
| A feather from the Whippoorwill | Poetry |
| A darting fear-a pomp-a tear | Poetry |
| A Charm invests a face | Poetry |
| Whether my bark went down at sea | Poetry |
| When Roses cease to bloom, Sir | Poetry |
| When I count the seeds | Poetry |
| To venerate the simple days | Poetry |
| Through lane it lay-through bramble | Poetry |
| There's something quieter than sleep | Poetry |
| There is another sky | Poetry |
| There is a word | Poetry |
| There is a morn by men unseen | Poetry |
| The morns are meeker than they were | Poetry |
| The Guest is gold and crimson | Poetry |
| The Gentian weaves her fringes | Poetry |
| The feet of people walking home | Poetry |
| Summer for thee, grant I may be | Poetry |
| So has a Daisy vanished | Poetry |
| Snow flakes | Poetry |
| Sleep is supposed to be | Poetry |
| Sic transit gloria mundi | Poetry |
| She slept beneath a tree | Poetry |
| One Sister have I in our house | Poetry |
| Once more, my now bewildered Dove | Poetry |
| On this wondrous sea | Poetry |
| Nobody knows this little Rose | Poetry |
| My wheel is in the dark | Poetry |
| Morns like these-we parted | Poetry |
| It's all I have to bring today | Poetry |
| It did not surprise me | Poetry |
| If those I loved were lost | Poetry |
| If she had been the Mistletoe | Poetry |
| If recollecting were forgetting | Poetry |
| If I should die | Poetry |
| I would distil a cup | Poetry |
| I robbed the Woods | Poetry |
| I often passed the village | Poetry |
| I never told the buried gold | Poetry |
| I keep my pledge | Poetry |
| I haven't told my garden yet | Poetry |
| I have a Bird in spring | Poetry |
| I had a guinea golden | Poetry |
| Heart! We will forget him! | Poetry |
| Garland for Queens, may be | Poetry |
| Frequently the wood are pink | Poetry |
| Distrustful of the Gentian | Poetry |
| By such and such an offering | Poetry |
| By Chivalries as tiny | Poetry |
| Before the ice is in the pools | Poetry |
| Baffled for just a day or two | Poetry |
| Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine | Poetry |
| All these my banners be | Poetry |
| A sepal, petal, and a thorn | Poetry |
| A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! | Poetry |
| The Spider holds a Silver Ball | Poetry |
| Perhaps I asked too large | Poetry |
| I was the slightest in the House | Poetry |
| I shall know why-when Time is over | Poetry |
| I reason, Earth is short | Poetry |
| Color-Caste-Denomination | Poetry |
| Wild Nights-Wild Nights! | Poetry |
| This is my letter to the World | Poetry |
| They shut me up in Prose | Poetry |
| There's a certain Slant of light | Poetry |
| The Soul selects her own Society | Poetry |
| The nearest Dream recedes-unrealized | Poetry |
| The Heart asks Pleasure-first | Poetry |
| The Brain-is wider than the Sky | Poetry |
| The Bible is an antique Volume | Poetry |
| Tell all the Truth but tell it slant | Poetry |
| Split the Lark-and you'll find the Music | Poetry |
| Some keep the Sabbath going to Church | Poetry |
| Safe in their Alabaster Chambers | Poetry |
| Renunciation-is a piercing Virtue | Poetry |
| Remorse-is Memory-awake | Poetry |
| Publication-is the Auction | Poetry |
| Our lives are Swiss- | Poetry |
| On a Columnar Self | Poetry |
| My Life had stood-a Loaded Gun | Poetry |
| My life closed twice before its close | Poetry |
| Much Madness is divinest Sense | Poetry |
| Mine-by the Right of the White Election! | Poetry |
| I'm Nobody! Who are you? | Poetry |
| I would not paint-a picture | Poetry |
| I think the longest Hour of all | Poetry |
| I reckon-when I count it all | Poetry |
| I never saw a Moor | Poetry |
| I never lost as much but twice | Poetry |
| I like to see it lap the Miles | Poetry |
| I like a look of Agony | Poetry |
| I heard a Fly buzz-when I died | Poetry |
| I felt a Funeral, in my Brain | Poetry |
| I dwell in Possibility | Poetry |
| I died for Beauty-but was scarce | Poetry |
| I cannot live with You | Poetry |
| "Hope" is the thing with feathers | Poetry |
| Because I could not stop for Death | Poetry |
| A Clock stopped | Poetry |
| A Bird came down the Walk | Poetry |
| Autumn—overlooked my Knitting | poem |
| Our little Kinsmen—after Rain | poem |
| "Go travelling with us!" | poem |
| Bless God, he went as soldiers | poem |
| As Children bid the Guest "Good Night" | poem |
| Shells from the Coast mistaking | poem |
| That this should feel the need of Death | poem |
| The reticent volcano keeps | poem |
| The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea | poem |
| Her spirit rose to such a height | poem |
| A Mien to move a Queen | poem |
| How firm Eternity must look | poem |
| Sang from the Heart, Sire | poem |
| Banish Air from Air— | poem |
| If any sink, assure that this, now standing | poem |
| He preached upon "Breadth" till it argued him narrow— | poem |
| The Martyr Poets—did not tell | poem |
| These are the Signs to Nature's Inns— | poem |
| Risk is the Hair that holds the Tun | poem |
| Sunset that screens, reveals— | poem |
| One Sister have I in our house | poem |
| Like Some Old fashioned Miracle | poem |
| I have no Life but this— | poem |
| There is another sky | poem |
| I'll send the feather from my Hat! | poem |
| Peril as a Possesssion | poem |
| Good Night! Which put the Candle out? | poem |
| The Red—Blaze—is the Morning | poem |
| Me, change! Me, alter! | poem |
| A Dimple in the Tomb | poem |
| One of the ones that Midas touched | poem |
| Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? | poem |
| What we see we know somewhat | poem |
| That it will never come again | poem |
| Doom is the House without the Door | poem |
| I measure every Grief I meet | poem |
| Paradise is of the option | poem |
| I reason, Earth is short | poem |
| I watcher her face to see which way | poem |
| March is the Month of Expectation | poem |
| A soft Sea washed around the House | poem |
| A little Madness in the Spring | poem |
| Water, is taught by thirst | poem |
| There is no Silence in the Earth—so silent | poem |
| "Heavenly Father"—take to thee | poem |
| Sexton! My Master's sleeping here | poem |
| He parts Himself—like Leaves | poem |
| How Human Nature dotes | poem |
| Not to discover weakness is | poem |
| I envy Seas, whereon He rides | poem |
| Pain has but one Acquaintance | poem |
| Your Riches—taught me—Poverty | poem |
| The Snow that never drifts— | poem |
| If I may have it, when it's dead | poem |
| A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! | poem |
| Bind me—I still can sing— | poem |
| I have a Bird in spring | poem |
| Some keep the Sabbath going to Church | poem |
| 'Tis Anguish grander than Delight | poem |
| To see the Summer Sky | poem |
| What is—"Paradise" | poem |
| Morns like these—we parted | poem |
| On the World you colored | poem |
| That Love is all there is | poem |
| Herein a Blossom lies | poem |
| Death's Waylaying not the sharpest | poem |
| The Things that never can come back, are several— | poem |
| He fumbles at your Soul | poem |
| After great pain, a formal feeling comes | poem |
| Of Paul and Silas it is said | poem |
| Alone, I cannot be | poem |
| A Sparrow took a Slice of Twig | poem |
| I pay—in Satin Cash | poem |
| The Tint I cannot take—is best | poem |
| I showed her Heights she never saw | poem |
| Death leaves Us homesick, who behind | poem |
| He outstripped Time with but a Bout | poem |
| The Poets light but Lamps | poem |
| In Winter in my Room | poem |
| What shall I do—it whimpers so | poem |
| On that specific Pillow | poem |
| As Everywhere of Silver | poem |
| Least Bee that brew | poem |
| Whether my bark went down at sea | poem |
| The worthlessness of Earthly things | poem |
| I often passed the village | poem |
| I send you a decrepit flower | poem |
| His Bill an Auger is | poem |
| The Wind—tapped like a tired Man | poem |
| I could not prove the Years had feet | poem |
| September's Baccalaureate | poem |
| The fascinating chill that music leaves | poem |
| The Heart has narrow Banks | poem |
| Which misses most | poem |
| The butterfly obtains | poem |
| When Katie walks, this simple pair accompany her side | poem |
| I would not paint—a picture | poem |
| Knows how to forget! | poem |
| Tell as a Marksman—were forgotten | poem |
| A curious Cloud surprised the Sky | poem |
| Reverse cannot befall | poem |
| The Sun went down—no Man looked on— | poem |
| As by the dead we love to sit | poem |
| They put Us far apart | poem |
| The pattern of the sun | poem |
| The Products of my Farm are these | poem |
| Just Once! Oh least Request! | poem |
| The Judge is like the Owl | poem |
| An awful Tempest mashed the air | poem |
| The Butterfly upon the Sky | poem |
| To die—without the Dying | poem |
| Whatever it is—she has tried it— | poem |
| So I pull my Stockings off | poem |
| A Weight with Needles on the pounds | poem |
| She's happy, with a new Content | poem |
| "Heaven" has different Signs—to me | poem |
| "Lethe" in my flower | poem |
| Witchcraft was hung, in History | poem |
| To tell the Beauty would decrease | poem |
| Went up a year this evening! | poem |
| Spring is the Period | poem |
| The Brain, within its Groove | poem |
| Dreams—are well—but Waking's better | poem |
| Cosmopolities without a plea | poem |
| The Treason of an accent | poem |
| It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation | poem |
| A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring | poem |
| Dominion lasts until obtained— | poem |
| Light is sufficient to itself | poem |
| Today or this noon | poem |
| I shall not murmur if at last | poem |
| On that dear Frame the Years had worn | poem |
| My period had come for Prayer | poem |
| Crisis is a Hair | poem |
| Summer—we all have seen— | poem |
| Perception of an object costs | poem |
| So large my Will | poem |
| Praise it—'tis dead— | poem |
| Fame is the one that does not stay— | poem |
| A full fed Rose on meals of Tint | poem |
| Between My Country—and the Others | poem |
| Of their peculiar light | poem |
| The Missing All—prevented Me | poem |
| The longest day that God appoints | poem |
| To earn it by disdaining it | poem |
| I'll tell you how the Sun rose | poem |
| The murmuring of Bees, has ceased | poem |
| In snow thou comest— | poem |
| From all the Jails the Boys and Girls | poem |
| The Months have ends—the Years—a knot | poem |
| Embarrassment of one another | poem |
| My Season's furthest Flower— | poem |
| Silence is all we dread | poem |
| I met a King this afternoon! | poem |
| Like her the Saints retire | poem |
| She hideth Her the last | poem |
| She dwelleth in the Ground | poem |
| A Thought went up my mind today | poem |
| Besides this May | poem |
| The Riddle we can guess | poem |
| We see—Comparatively | poem |
| Fame is a fickle food | poem |
| Taking up the fair Ideal | poem |
| Elijah's Wagon knew no thill | poem |
| Trust adjust her "Peradventure"— | poem |
| Tried always and Condemned by thee | poem |
| My friend must be a Bird | poem |
| A South Wind—has a pathos | poem |
| The stem of a departed Flower | poem |
| I died for Beauty—but was scarce | poem |
| Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned the Red | poem |
| The largest Fire ever known | poem |
| To pile like Thunder to its close | poem |
| Softened by Time's consummate plush | poem |
| Finding is the first Act | poem |
| Triumph—may be of several kinds | poem |
| The Lady feeds Her little Bird | poem |
| One Year ago—jots what? | poem |
| Pain—expands the Time | poem |
| If | poem |
| Despair's advantage is achieved | poem |
| 'Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch | poem |
| You see I cannot see—your lifetime | poem |
| We wear our sober Dresses when we die | poem |
| Experience is the Angled Road | poem |
| To do a magnanimous thing | poem |
| The Clock strikes one that just struck two— | poem |
| Talk not to me of Summer Trees | poem |
| Estranged from Beauty—none can be— | poem |
| A Word made Flesh is seldom | poem |
| The saddest noise, the sweetest noise | poem |
| Strong Draughts of Their Refreshing Minds | poem |
| Where every bird is bold to go | poem |
| I thought that nature was enough | poem |
| More than the Grave is closed to me— | poem |
| Me prove it now—Whoever doubt | poem |
| I cannot dance upon my Toes | poem |
| I know of people in the Grave | poem |
| A Deed knocks first at Thought | poem |
| This Consciousness that is aware | poem |
| It dropped so low—in my Regard | poem |
| A Planted Life—diversified | poem |
| The overtakelessness of those | poem |
| A loss of something ever felt I | poem |
| Size circumscribes—it has no room | poem |
| Absent Place—an April Day | poem |
| The Beggar Lad—dies early | poem |
| The Bone that has no Marrow | poem |
| That odd old man is dead a year— | poem |
| An antiquated Grace | poem |
| Patience—has a quiet Outer | poem |
| We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing | poem |
| The Butterfly's Assumption Gown | poem |
| Funny—to be a Century | poem |
| There is a solitude of space | poem |
| "Tomorrow"—whose location | poem |
| The Daisy follows soft the Sun | poem |
| It tossed—and tossed | poem |
| A Man may make a Remark | poem |
| Pigmy seraphs—gone astray | poem |
| When Night is almost done | poem |
| The Soul should always stand ajar | poem |
| Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple | poem |
| A Counterfeit—a Plated Person— | poem |
| Exhilaration—is within | poem |
| Like Time's insidious wrinkle | poem |
| I felt my life with both my hands | poem |
| The Juggler's Hat her Country is | poem |
| To make One's Toilette—after Death | poem |
| Crisis is sweet and yet the Heart | poem |
| I asked no other thing | poem |
| To her derided Home | poem |
| The Veins of other Flowers | poem |
| Spurn the temerity— | poem |
| There is a Shame of Nobleness | poem |
| Volcanoes be in Sicily | poem |
| Spring comes on the World— | poem |
| A Spider sewed at Night | poem |
| To the bright east she flies | poem |
| Themself are all I have— | poem |
| Summer for thee, grant I may be | poem |
| Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! | poem |
| As Watchers hang upon the East | poem |
| When One has given up One's life | poem |
| Rehearsal to Ourselves | poem |
| It stole along so stealthy | poem |
| Sweet Skepticism of the Heart— | poem |
| No Brigadier throughout the Year | poem |
| We do not play on Graves | poem |
| Death is like the insect | poem |
| At least—to pray—is left—is left | poem |
| A faded Boy—in sallow Clothes | poem |
| I cannot see my soul but know 'tis there | poem |
| A | poem |
| Endanger it, and the Demand | poem |
| Did we disobey Him? | poem |
| You cannot make Remembrance grow | poem |
| We shun because we prize her Face | poem |
| When I hoped I feared— | poem |
| He found my Being—set it up | poem |
| Answer July | poem |
| The things we thought that we should do | poem |
| Arrows enamored of his Heart— | poem |
| If ever the lid gets off my head | poem |
| Two butterflies went out at Noon | poem |
| Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! | poem |
| The Only News I know | poem |
| The Popular Heart is a Cannon first— | poem |
| Artists wrestled here! | poem |
| Love—thou art high | poem |
| My Faith is larger than the Hills | poem |
| The Robin for the Crumb | poem |
| The Bird her punctual music brings | poem |
| Faith—is the Pierless Bridge | poem |
| The Brain, within its Groove | poem |
| Have you got a Brook in your little heart | poem |
| Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night | poem |
| So well that I can live without | poem |
| The Face we choose to miss— | poem |
| Robbed by Death—but that was easy | poem |
| The Manner of its Death | poem |
| There is a morn by men unseen | poem |
| Not "Revelation"—'tis—that waits | poem |
| How much of Source escapes with thee— | poem |
| I held a Jewel in my fingers | poem |
| Mute thy Coronation | poem |
| To this World she returned | poem |
| Wild Nights—Wild Nights! | poem |
| Sweet is the swamp with its secrets | poem |
| The Heart is the Capital of the Mind— | poem |
| Too cold is this | poem |
| Given in Marriage unto Thee | poem |
| The Robin is a Gabriel | poem |
| Ended, ere it begun— | poem |
| This is the place they hoped before | poem |
| More Life—went out—when He went | poem |
| Touch lightly Nature's sweet Guitar | poem |
| Good night, because we must | poem |
| My Heart ran so to thee | poem |
| Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it | poem |
| Where I have lost, I softer tread | poem |
| Although I put away his life | poem |
| Garland for Queens, may be | poem |
| Under the Light, yet under | poem |
| This quiet Dust was Gentleman and Ladies | poem |
| The Sunset stopped on Cottages | poem |
| "Go tell it"—What a Message— | poem |
| A Lady red—amid the Hill | poem |
| I lived on Dread | poem |
| There is no Frigate like a Book | poem |
| She went as quiet as the Dew | poem |
| The Sun kept stooping—stooping | poem |
| There is a flower that Bees prefer | poem |
| I cannot live with You | poem |
| When Diamonds are a Legend | poem |
| Go thy great way! | poem |
| To make Routine a Stimulus | poem |
| If my Bark sink | poem |
| How still the Bells in Steeples stand | poem |
| Dust is the only Secret | poem |
| The Soul unto itself | poem |
| Through the strait pass of suffering | poem |
| Prayer is the little implement | poem |
| The duties of the Wind are few | poem |
| 'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy! | poem |
| The only Ghost I ever saw | poem |
| Advance is Life's condition | poem |
| Were it to be the last | poem |
| When Bells stop ringing—Church—begins | poem |
| Shall I take thee, the Poet said | poem |
| I am alive—I guess | poem |
| A Solemn thing within the Soul | poem |
| A Wind that rose | poem |
| At last, to be identified! | poem |
| Go not too near a House of Rose— | poem |
| A Rat surrendered here | poem |
| Dying! To be afraid of thee | poem |
| Teach Him—When He makes the names | poem |
| Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews | poem |
| The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings— | poem |
| The Dying need but little, Dear | poem |
| How soft a Caterpillar steps— | poem |
| A Route of Evanescence | poem |
| A winged spark doth soar about— | poem |
| A Toad, can die of Light | poem |
| Give little Anguish | poem |
| Some we see no more, Tenements of Wonder | poem |
| Though the great Waters sleep | poem |
| I had the Glory—that will do | poem |
| I worked for chaff and earning Wheat | poem |
| If I should cease to bring a Rose | poem |
| Who were "the Father and the Son" | poem |
| There's been a Death, in the Opposite House | poem |
| To be alive—is Power | poem |
| We miss a Kinsman more | poem |
| The harm of Years is on him— | poem |
| Wert Thou but ill—that I might show thee | poem |
| Quite empty, quite at rest | poem |
| Musicians wrestle everywhere | poem |
| Elizabeth told Essex | poem |
| A Letter is a joy of Earth— | poem |
| I am ashamed—I hide | poem |
| Without a smile—Without a Throe | poem |
| Who goes to dine must take his Feast | poem |
| Except to Heaven, she is nought | poem |
| And this of all my Hopes | poem |
| Not any more to be lacked— | poem |
| The first Day's Night had come | poem |
| Unto a broken heart | poem |
| Where bells no more affright the morn | poem |
| God made no act without a cause | poem |
| My friend attacks my friend! | poem |
| The Sunrise runs for Both | poem |
| Of all the Souls that stand create | poem |
| Her—"last Poems" | poem |
| Much Madness is divinest Sense | poem |
| White as an Indian Pipe | poem |
| That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet | poem |
| Guest am I to have | poem |
| Who Giants know, with lesser Men | poem |
| Summer has two Beginnings— | poem |
| The joy that has no stem no core | poem |
| Not all die early, dying young | poem |
| A train went through a burial gate | poem |
| These—saw Visions | poem |
| To hang our head—ostensibly | poem |
| I never hear the word "escape" | poem |
| Step lightly on this narrow spot— | poem |
| They might not need me—yet they might— | poem |
| The Road to Paradise is plain | poem |
| The farthest Thunder that I heard | poem |
| I sometimes drop it, for a Quick | poem |
| I'm the little "Heart's Ease" | poem |
| Heaven is so far of the Mind | poem |
| Midsummer, was it, when They died | poem |
| Delayed till she had ceased to know | poem |
| The Auctioneer of Parting | poem |
| I noticed People disappeared | poem |
| Not in this World to see his face | poem |
| Would you like summer? Taste of ours | poem |
| Consulting summer's clock | poem |
| God is indeed a jealous God—J | poem |
| The Props assist the House | poem |
| That I did always love | poem |
| She slept beneath a tree | poem |
| Where Ships of Purple—gently toss | poem |
| As if some little Arctic flower | poem |
| We do not know the time we lose— | poem |
| When a Lover is a Beggar | poem |
| Myself was formed—a Carpenter | poem |
| Bees are Black, with Gilt Surcingles— | poem |
| "Red Sea," indeed! Talk not to me | poem |
| The Whole of it came not at once | poem |
| By Chivalries as tiny | poem |
| Heart! We will forget him! | poem |
| A Prison gets to be a friend | poem |
| The Angle of a Landscape | poem |
| There's a certain Slant of light | poem |
| Gratitude—is not the mention | poem |
| I had some things that I called mine | poem |
| The smouldering embers blush— | poem |
| Back from the cordial Grave I drag theed | poem |
| Not at Home to Callers | poem |
| Luck is not chance— | poem |
| How much the present moment means | poem |
| 'Twas a long Parting—but the time | poem |
| "Hope" is the thing with feathers | poem |
| Brother of Ingots—Ah Peru— | poem |
| My Worthiness is all my Doubt | poem |
| Love—is anterior to Life | poem |
| I've got an arrow here | poem |
| These Strangers, in a foreign World | poem |
| The Moon was but a Chin of Gold | poem |
| How brittle are the Piers | poem |
| The Admirations—and Contempts—of time | poem |
| What if I say I shall not wait! | poem |
| Apparently with no surprise | poem |
| Crumbling is not an instant's Act | poem |
| The going from a world we know | poem |
| 'Twas comfort in her Dying Room | poem |
| The Bustle in a House | poem |
| One Joy of so much anguish | poem |
| By a departing light | poem |
| The Soul selects her own Society | poem |
| Ashes denote that Fire was— | poem |
| The Heart has many Doors— | poem |
| As imperceptibly as Grief | poem |
| Kill your Balm—and its Odors bless you | poem |
| Where Thou art—that—is Home | poem |
| To interrupt His Yellow Plan | poem |
| They have a little Odor—that to me | poem |
| Bound—a trouble | poem |
| A science—so the Savants say | poem |
| Drama's Vitallest Expression is the Common Day | poem |
| No man saw awe, nor to his house | poem |
| How soft this Prison is | poem |
| These are the days that Reindeer love | poem |
| To disappear enhances— | poem |
| The Flake the Wind exasperate | poem |
| Great Caesar! Condescend | poem |
| Speech is one symptom of Affection | poem |
| Lest they should come—is all my fear | poem |
| Who saw no Sunrise cannot say | poem |
| The Brain—is wider than the Sky | poem |
| Upon his Saddle sprung a Bird | poem |
| Now I lay thee down to Sleep— | poem |
| We can but follow to the Sun | poem |
| Of so divine a Loss | poem |
| What Soft—Cherubic Creatures | poem |
| 'Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War | poem |
| The Birds reported from the South | poem |
| Not probable—The barest Chance | poem |
| I play at Riches—to appease | poem |
| Love—is that later Thing than Death | poem |
| Meeting by Accident | poem |
| A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart | poem |
| Low at my problem bending | poem |
| Ah, Necromancy Sweet! | poem |
| 'Twas my one Glory— | poem |
| Is it true, dear Sue? | poem |
| A Diamond on the Hand | poem |
| Great Streets of silence led away | poem |
| He scanned it—staggered— | poem |
| The vastest earthly Day | poem |
| "Was not" was all the Statement | poem |
| Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered | poem |
| The Color of a Queen, is this | poem |
| I cannot be ashamed | poem |
| The One who could repeat the Summer day | poem |
| The parasol is the umbrella's daughter | poem |
| If I could bribe them by a Rose | poem |
| It was a quiet seeming Day— | poem |
| He strained my faith | poem |
| I fear a Man of frugal Speech | poem |
| Such are the inlets of the mind— | poem |
| Some such Butterfly be seen | poem |
| One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted | poem |
| Color—Caste—Denomination | poem |
| The first Day that I was a Life | poem |
| Sweet—safe—Houses | poem |
| Safe Despair it is that raves— | poem |
| The Day undressed—Herself | poem |
| 'Tis my first night beneath the Sun | poem |
| I sing to use the Waiting | poem |
| Sown in dishonor | poem |
| I think the Hemlock likes to stand | poem |
| We learn it in Retreating | poem |
| We talked as Girls do | poem |
| The Soul has Bandaged moments | poem |
| I should have been too glad, I see | poem |
| The Voice that stands for Floods to me | poem |
| I groped for him before I knew | poem |
| Of Nature I shall have enough | poem |
| The spry Arms of the Wind | poem |
| Belshazzar had a Letter— | poem |
| I felt a Funeral, in my Brain | poem |
| Than Heaven more remote | poem |
| I had not minded—Walls | poem |
| I can wade Grief | poem |
| Conscious am I in my Chamber | poem |
| A Sloop of Amber slips away | poem |
| 'Tis customary as we part | poem |
| Mine Enemy is growing old— | poem |
| The Opening and the Close | poem |
| Some Arrows slay but whom they strike— | poem |
| On a Columnar Self | poem |
| Were it but Me that gained the Height— | poem |
| When the Astronomer stops seeking | poem |
| Yesterday is History | poem |
| The Well upon the Brook | poem |
| Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre | poem |
| By homely gift and hindered Words | poem |
| Could | poem |
| The distance that the dead have gone | poem |
| It's coming—the postponeless Creature | poem |
| I taste a liquor never brewed | poem |
| Could I but ride indefinite | poem |
| Forget! The lady with the Amulet | poem |
| Reportless Subjects, to the Quick | poem |
| She laid her docile Crescent down | poem |
| One thing of it we borrow | poem |
| Rest at Night | poem |
| Alter! When the Hills do | poem |
| When they come back—if Blossoms do— | poem |
| 'Twas the old—road—through pain | poem |
| It knew no Medicine | poem |
| The Lilac is an ancient shrub | poem |
| How many times these low feet staggered | poem |
| Had this one Day not been | poem |
| None can experience sting | poem |
| If it had no pencil | poem |
| I could suffice for Him, I knew | poem |
| I am afraid to own a Body— | poem |
| Some things that fly there be | poem |
| Fitter to see Him, I may be | poem |
| For every Bird a Nest | poem |
| A fuzzy fellow, without feet | poem |
| As far from pity, as complaint | poem |
| He touched me, so I live to know | poem |
| I saw the wind within her | poem |
| Air has no Residence, no Neighbor | poem |
| My Maker—let me be | poem |
| The Court is far away | poem |
| Better—than Music! For I—who heard it | poem |
| The waters chased him as he fled | poem |
| Glory is that bright tragic thing | poem |
| Ah, Teneriffe! | poem |
| The Hills in Purple syllables | poem |
| What I can do—I will | poem |
| The Road was lit with Moon and star— | poem |
| Like Brooms of Steel | poem |
| A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork | poem |
| Smiling back from Coronation | poem |
| Only God—detect the Sorrow | poem |
| Each Scar I'll keep for Him | poem |
| Bereavement in their death to feel | poem |
| My Portion is Defeat—today | poem |
| I know some lonely Houses off the Road | poem |
| Alone and in a Circumstance | poem |
| The good Will of a Flower | poem |
| The inundation of the Spring | poem |
| A Sickness of this World it most occasions | poem |
| Life, and Death, and Giants | poem |
| To be forgot by thee | poem |
| 'Twas later when the summer went | poem |
| When I have seen the Sun emerge | poem |
| For each ecstatic instant | poem |
| Before I got my eye put out | poem |
| Lest any doubt that we are glad that they were born Today | poem |
| Life—is what we make of it | poem |
| I dreaded that first Robin, so | poem |
| You love the Lord—you cannot see | poem |
| We like a Hairbreadth 'scape | poem |
| I cannot meet the Spring unmoved— | poem |
| The Notice that is called the Spring | poem |
| I saw no Way—The Heavens were stitched | poem |
| On this long storm the Rainbow rose | poem |
| Whose Pink career may have a close | poem |
| Not seeing, still we know— | poem |
| The Wind didn't come from the Orchard—today | poem |
| His Feet are shod with Gauze | poem |
| A something in a summer's Day | poem |
| The Bible is an antique Volume— | poem |
| I had no Cause to be awake | poem |
| I heard a Fly buzz—when I died | poem |
| Through lane it lay—through bramble | poem |
| Three times—we parted—Breath—and I | poem |
| Is it dead—Find it | poem |
| As plan for Noon and plan for Night | poem |
| Floss won't save you from an Abyss | poem |
| 'Twas just this time, last year, I died | poem |
| Impossibility, like Wine | poem |
| If What we could—were what we would | poem |
| I see thee better—in the Dark | poem |
| I did not reach Thee | poem |
| What shall I do when the Summer troubles | poem |
| Love can do all but raise the Dead | poem |
| What I see not, I better see | poem |
| I hide myself within my flower | poem |
| Time's wily Chargers will not wait | poem |
| "Faithful to the end" Amended | poem |
| 'Twas warm—at first—like Us | poem |
| The Sun is gay or stark | poem |
| Some Days retired from the rest | poem |
| The Clouds their Backs together laid | poem |
| Not knowing when the Dawn will come | poem |
| The Gentian weaves her fringes | poem |
| What Inn is this | poem |
| Fate slew Him, but He did not drop— | poem |
| It sounded as if the Streets were running | poem |
| This is a Blossom of the Brain | poem |
| The Way to know the Bobolink | poem |
| I cautious, scanned my little life | poem |
| These tested Our Horizon | poem |
| The Work of Her that went | poem |
| I know lives, I could miss | poem |
| Extol thee—could I? Then I will | poem |
| To Whom the Mornings stand for Nights | poem |
| Why—do they shut Me out of Heaven? | poem |
| Over the fence | poem |
| Unto my Books—so good to turn | poem |
| Success is counted sweetest | poem |
| Who never wanted—maddest Joy | poem |
| A solemn thing—it was—I said | poem |
| Let down the Bars, Oh Death— | poem |
| Put up my lute! | poem |
| His Heart was darker than the starless night | poem |
| Not that he goes—we love him more | poem |
| Some, too fragile for winter winds | poem |
| Her final Summer was it | poem |
| From Blank to Blank | poem |
| A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink | poem |
| Mine—by the Right of the White Election! | poem |
| I took one Draught of Life— | poem |
| Baffled for just a day or two | poem |
| It came his turn to beg— | poem |
| Angels, in the early morning | poem |
| Our lives are Swiss— | poem |
| Growth of Man—like Growth of Nature | poem |
| The competitions of the sky | poem |
| A Saucer holds a Cup | poem |
| How sick—to wait—in any place—but thine | poem |
| His voice decrepit was with Joy— | poem |
| Our journey had advanced | poem |
| Somewhere upon the general Earth | poem |
| Essential Oils—are wrung | poem |
| I think I was enchanted | poem |
| How good his Lava Bed | poem |
| It would have starved a Gnat | poem |
| The Sun and Moon must make their haste | poem |
| You left me—Sire—two Legacies | poem |
| She rose as high as His Occasion | poem |
| Up Life's Hill with my my little Bundle | poem |
| How the old Mountains drip with Sunset | poem |
| Her little Parasol to lift | poem |
| It sifts from Leaden Sieves | poem |
| Through what transports of Patience | poem |
| I know that He exists | poem |
| Fame's Boys and Girls, who never die | poem |
| Sleep is supposed to be | poem |
| A happy lip—breaks sudden | poem |
| Some Wretched creature, savior take | poem |
| Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself | poem |
| Let me not thirst with this Hock at my Lip | poem |
| 'Tis so appalling—it exhilarates | poem |
| For Death—or rather | poem |
| There are two Ripenings—one—of sight | poem |
| A Light exists in Spring | poem |
| The Leaves like Women interchange | poem |
| The Sun and Fog contested | poem |
| Love is done when Love's begun | poem |
| I found the words to every thought | poem |
| God made a little Gentian | poem |
| No ladder needs the bird but skies | poem |
| I tend my flowers for thee | poem |
| Not that We did, shall be the test | poem |
| Ambition cannot find him | poem |
| Whose are the little beds, I asked | poem |
| Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! | poem |
| The Himmaleh was known to stoop | poem |
| The Blunder is in estimate | poem |
| The Skies can't keep their secret! | poem |
| The Day she goes | poem |
| 'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold | poem |
| Birthday of but a single pang | poem |
| We met as Sparks—Diverging Flints | poem |
| The Dandelion's pallid tube | poem |
| The Rose did caper on her cheek | poem |
| Of Tribulation, these are They | poem |
| Tell all the Truth but tell it slant | poem |
| I meant to find Her when I came | poem |
| No Man can compass a Despair | poem |
| The Rat is the concisest Tenant. | poem |
| Expanse cannot be lost— | poem |
| Let my first Knowing be of thee | poem |
| Sic transit gloria mundi | poem |
| That Distance was between Us | poem |
| The Chemical conviction | poem |
| Defrauded I a Butterfly | poem |
| I knew that I had gained | poem |
| Before the ice is in the pools | poem |
| We pray—to Heaven | poem |
| Look back on Time, with kindly eyes— | poem |
| Bliss is the plaything of the child— | poem |
| Too scanty 'twas to die for you | poem |
| A transport one cannot contain | poem |
| It's thoughts—and just One Heart | poem |
| I gave myself to Him | poem |
| It is an honorable Thought | poem |
| A single Clover Plank | poem |
| No Bobolink—reverse His Singing | poem |
| Do People moulder equally | poem |
| So set its Sun in Thee | poem |
| The Mountains stood in Haze— | poem |
| This docile one inter | poem |
| Nature—the Gentlest Mother is | poem |
| "I want"—it pleaded—All its life | poem |
| My Triumph lasted till the Drums | poem |
| They called me to the Window, for | poem |
| Me from Myself—to banish | poem |
| Of Brussels—it was not | poem |
| This heart that broke so long | poem |
| 'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe— | poem |
| The pungent atom in the Air | poem |
| With sweetness unabated | poem |
| To their apartment deep | poem |
| That Such have died enable Us | poem |
| As the Starved Maelstrom laps the Navies | poem |
| The Truth—is stirless | poem |
| Pink—small—and punctual— | poem |
| The Murmur of a Bee | poem |
| Those fair—fictitious People | poem |
| The Birds begun at Four o'clock | poem |
| It would never be Common—more—I said | poem |
| We shun it ere it comes | poem |
| Two Travellers perishing in Snow | poem |
| Power is a familiar growth— | poem |
| Which is the best—the Moon or the Crescent? | poem |
| Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights— | poem |
| The most triumphant Bird I ever knew or met | poem |
| He was my host—he was my guest | poem |
| Of God we ask one favor | poem |
| Precious to Me—She still shall be | poem |
| Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? | poem |
| Because I could not stop for Death | poem |
| They ask but our Delight | poem |
| We shall find the Cube of the Rainbow | poem |
| When I hoped, I recollect | poem |
| Like Rain it sounded till it curved | poem |
| Here, where the Daisies fit my Head | poem |
| It might be lonelier | poem |
| I'm sorry for the Dead—Today | poem |
| I had no time to Hate | poem |
| The last of Summer is Delight— | poem |
| As from the earth the light Balloon | poem |
| Of Bronze—and Blaze | poem |
| They dropped like Flakes | poem |
| It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon | poem |
| I many times thought Peace had come | poem |
| Declaiming Waters none may dread— | poem |
| The Luxury to apprehend | poem |
| Those—dying then | poem |
| Because the Bee may blameless hum | poem |
| I prayed, at first, a little Girl | poem |
| Those final Creatures,—who they are— | poem |
| All the letters I can write | poem |
| "Faith" is a fine invention | poem |
| This slow Day moved along— | poem |
| Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord | poem |
| I went to thank Her | poem |
| No Rack can torture me | poem |
| A Tooth upon Our Peace | poem |
| Best Gains—must have the Losses' Test | poem |
| Must be a Woe | poem |
| The nearest Dream recedes—unrealized | poem |
| I've dropped my Brain—My Soul is numb— | poem |
| What care the Dead, for Chanticleer | poem |
| Once more, my now bewildered Dove | poem |
| One Crucifixion is recorded—only | poem |
| A prompt—executive Bird is the Jay— | poem |
| My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun | poem |
| Why make it doubt—it hurts it so | poem |
| One Anguish—in a Crowd | poem |
| Except the smaller size | poem |
| The words the happy say | poem |
| So much of Heaven has gone from Earth | poem |
| So give me back to Death— | poem |
| A Field of Stubble, lying sere | poem |
| If He were living—dare I ask | poem |
| When Memory is full | poem |
| I started Early—Took my Dog | poem |
| The Night was wide, and furnished scant | poem |
| We play at Paste | poem |
| I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs | poem |
| When we stand on the tops of Things | poem |
| "Heaven"—is what I cannot reach! | poem |
| Hope is a subtle Glutton— | poem |
| On such a night, or such a night | poem |
| We send the Wave to find the Wave— | poem |
| Bring me the sunset in a cup | poem |
| To help our Bleaker Parts | poem |
| The Stars are old, that stood for me— | poem |
| The Outer—from the Inner | poem |
| The Butterfly in honored Dust | poem |
| Removed from Accident of Loss | poem |
| A little overflowing word | poem |
| While it is alive | poem |
| The Loneliness One dare not sound | poem |
| All forgot for recollecting | poem |
| A darting fear—a pomp—a tear | poem |
| A Tongue—to tell Him I am true! | poem |
| Will there really be a "Morning"? | poem |
| Left in immortal Youth | poem |
| I shall know why—when Time is over | poem |
| Come show thy Durham Breast | poem |
| His Cheek is his Biographer— | poem |
| To break so vast a Heart | poem |
| Peace is a fiction of our Faith | poem |
| Facts by our side are never sudden | poem |
| "Why do I love" You, Sir? | poem |
| The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous | poem |
| Because my Brook is fluent | poem |
| With thee, in the Desert | poem |
| I read my sentence—steadily | poem |
| Conferring with myself | poem |
| How News must feel when travelling | poem |
| The rainbow never tells me | poem |
| To fill a Gap | poem |
| How happy is the little Stone | poem |
| A Wife—at daybreak I shall be | poem |
| There is a word | poem |
| Departed—to the Judgment | poem |
| All Circumstances are the Frame | poem |
| Out of sight? What of that? | poem |
| Her Sweet turn to leave the Homestead | poem |
| There comes a warning like a spy | poem |
| Presentiment—is that long Shadow—on the Lawn | poem |
| One crown that no one seeks | poem |
| The Malay—took the Pearl | poem |
| The grave my little cottage is | poem |
| The Way I read a Letter's—this | poem |
| Noon—is the Hinge of Day | poem |
| Satisfaction—is the Agent | poem |
| Forbidden Fruit a flavor has | poem |
| This was in the White of the Year | poem |
| Society for me my misery | poem |
| Because that you are going | poem |
| You love me—you are sure | poem |
| " | poem |
| In thy long Paradise of Light | poem |
| New feet within my garden go | poem |
| The Sky is low—the Clouds are mean | poem |
| It's like the Light | poem |
| The Frost of Death was on the Pane— | poem |
| Soft as the massacre of Suns | poem |
| Fortitude incarnate | poem |
| Apparently with no surprise | poem |
| The Sun retired to a cloud | poem |
| Bee! I'm expecting you! | poem |
| I think that the Root of the Wind is Water— | poem |
| I thought the Train would never come— | poem |
| Longing is like the Seed | poem |
| No Prisoner be | poem |
| The Sweets of Pillage, can be known | poem |
| Suspense—is Hostiler than Death | poem |
| One and One—are One | poem |
| Just as He spoke it from his Hands | poem |
| Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue | poem |
| Water makes many Beds | poem |
| All overgrown by cunning moss | poem |
| What Twigs We held by— | poem |
| "And with what body do they come?"— | poem |
| Pursuing you in your transitions | poem |
| Down Time's quaint stream | poem |
| Trust in the Unexpected | poem |
| This Me—that walks and works—must die | poem |
| Could Hope inspect her Basis | poem |
| To see her is a Picture— | poem |
| Deprived of other Banquet | poem |
| To hear an Oriole sing | poem |
| Follow wise Orion | poem |
| Parting with Thee reluctantly | poem |
| Many a phrase has the English language | poem |
| A word is dead | poem |
| A Route of Evanescence | poem |
| The Butterfly's Numidian Gown | poem |
| Had I not seen the Sun | poem |
| I should not dare to leave my friend | poem |
| My life closed twice before its close— | poem |
| How well I knew Her not | poem |
| Distrustful of the Gentian | poem |
| Could mortal lip divine | poem |
| Our share of night to bear | poem |
| The wind drew off | poem |
| On this wondrous sea | poem |
| I know a place where Summer strives | poem |
| We dream—it is good we are dreaming | poem |
| She could not live upon the Past | poem |
| A Drop Fell on the Apple Tree | poem |
| One Day is there of the Series | poem |
| A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds | poem |
| The Robin's my Criterion for Tune | poem |
| After a hundred years | poem |
| Each that we lose takes part of us; | poem |
| It is easy to work when the soul is at play | poem |
| Like eyes that looked on Wastes | poem |
| The Pile of Years is not so high | poem |
| It will be Summer—eventually | poem |
| Drab Habitation of Whom? | poem |
| Whose cheek is this? | poem |
| If I shouldn't be alive | poem |
| Not so the infinite Relations—Below | poem |
| Who is the East? | poem |
| If I can stop one Heart from breaking | poem |
| Did the Harebell loose her girdle | poem |
| Till Death—is narrow Loving | poem |
| "Remember me" implored the Thief! | poem |
| My Reward for Being, was This | poem |
| A face devoid of love or grace | poem |
| There comes an hour when begging stops | poem |
| After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside— | poem |
| So gay a Flower | poem |
| When Roses cease to bloom, Sir | poem |
| This—is the land—the Sunset washes | poem |
| No Notice gave She, but a Change | poem |
| How dare the robins sing | poem |
| Whether they have forgotten | poem |
| We Cover Thee—Sweet Face | poem |
| Is it too late to touch you, Dear? | poem |
| He who in Himself believes | poem |
| Not Sickness stains the Brave | poem |
| My country need not change her gown | poem |
| Said Death to Passion | poem |
| Within my reach! | poem |
| You cannot put a Fire out | poem |
| She rose to His Requirement | poem |
| This dirty—little—Heart | poem |
| 'Tis Opposites—entice | poem |
| Exultation is the going | poem |
| Absence disembodies—so does Death | poem |
| Three Weeks passed since I had seen Her— | poem |
| How know it from a Summer's Day? | poem |
| To One denied the drink | poem |
| This World is not Conclusion | poem |
| No Romance sold unto | poem |
| The name—of it—is "Autumn" | poem |
| A Dew sufficed itself— | poem |
| It is a lonesome Glee | poem |
| Each Second is the last | poem |
| Is Bliss then, such Abyss | poem |
| Over and over, like a Tune | poem |
| Surgeons must be very careful | poem |
| How happy is the little Stone | poem |
| She sights a Bird—she chuckles | poem |
| Besides the Autumn poets sing | poem |
| 'Tis One by One—the Father counts | poem |
| A Shade upon the mind there passes | poem |
| I heard, as if I had no Ear | poem |
| Should you but fail at—Sea | poem |
| Undue Significance a starving man attaches | poem |
| Immortal is an ample word | poem |
| His Mansion in the Pool | poem |
| When we have ceased to care | poem |
| This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life | poem |
| Before He comes we weigh the Time! | poem |
| Perhaps I asked too large | poem |
| Dear March—Come in— | poem |
| Did life's penurious length | poem |
| Aurora is the effort | poem |
| A feather from the Whippoorwill | poem |
| The Robin is the One | poem |
| 'Tis not that Dying hurts us so | poem |
| Their dappled importunity | poem |
| Love's stricken "why" | poem |
| Time does go on— | poem |
| To own the Art within the Soul | poem |
| Why should we hurry—why indeed? | poem |
| How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights— | poem |
| Until the Desert knows | poem |
| It came at last but prompter Death | poem |
| Two swimmers wrestled on the spar | poem |
| Unable are the Loved to die | poem |
| The Symptom of the Gale— | poem |
| Upon a Lilac Sea | poem |
| Long Years apart—can make no | poem |
| A Charm invests a face | poem |
| Of Being is a Bird | poem |
| 'Twas here my summer paused | poem |
| For this—accepted Breath | poem |
| Obtaining but our own Extent | poem |
| Ideals are the Fairly Oil | poem |
| Lives he in any other world | poem |
| The Show is not the Show | poem |
| I've none to tell me to but Thee | poem |
| The Soul's distinct connection | poem |
| If I should die | poem |
| Severer Service of myself | poem |
| There is another Loneliness | poem |
| The Hollows round His eager Eyes | poem |
| Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush | poem |
| It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone | poem |
| By a flower—By a letter | poem |
| The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb | poem |
| I cross till I am weary | poem |
| No matter—now—Sweet | poem |
| Escape is such a thankful Word | poem |
| The Soul's Superior instants | poem |
| Unfulfilled to Observation | poem |
| The hallowing of Pain | poem |
| All but Death, can be Adjusted | poem |
| A throe upon the features | poem |
| Its Hour with itself | poem |
| Savior! I've no one else to tell | poem |
| The Day that I was crowned | poem |
| Morning—is the place for Dew | poem |
| I live with Him—I see His face | poem |
| Fame is the tine that Scholars leave | poem |
| Me—come! My dazzled face | poem |
| Fame is a bee | poem |
| Drowning is not so pitiful | poem |
| Too happy Time dissolves itself | poem |
| Time feels so vast that were it not | poem |
| So has a Daisy vanished | poem |
| I've known a Heaven, like a Tent | poem |
| I bet with every Wind that blew | poem |
| Count not that far that can be had | poem |
| The Mind lives on the Heart | poem |
| My Eye is fuller than my vase | poem |
| There came a Day at Summer's full | poem |
| By such and such an offering | poem |
| Had we known the Ton she bore | poem |
| Because He loves Her | poem |
| It was not Death, for I stood up | poem |
| God gave a Loaf to every Bird | poem |
| She sweeps with many-colored Brooms | poem |
| I'll clutch—and clutch | poem |
| That is solemn we have ended | poem |
| I haven't told my garden yet | poem |
| Lain in Nature—so suffice us | poem |
| To undertake is to achieve | poem |
| Art thou the thing I wanted? | poem |
| These are the Nights that Beetles love— | poem |
| Oh Sumptuous moment | poem |
| I bring an unaccustomed wine | poem |
| I've seen a Dying Eye | poem |
| They say that "Time assuages" | poem |
| 'Twould ease—a Butterfly | poem |
| When Etna basks and purrs | poem |
| The most pathetic thing I do | poem |
| Are Friends Delight or Pain? | poem |
| Unto like Story—Trouble has enticed me | poem |
| Confirming All who analyze | poem |
| Delight is as the flight | poem |
| I think just how my shape will rise | poem |
| A Pit—but Heaven over it— | poem |
| I can't tell you—but you feel it | poem |
| My best Acquaintances are those | poem |
| A Death blow is a Life blow to Some | poem |
| I should not dare to be so sad | poem |
| They talk as slow as Legends grow | poem |
| They shut me up in Prose | poem |
| Flowers—Well—if anybody | poem |
| Death sets a Thing significant | poem |
| I keep my pledge | poem |
| You said that I "was Great"—one Day | poem |
| I like to see it lap the Miles | poem |
| The look of thee, what is it like | poem |
| Summer is shorter than any one— | poem |
| There is a Languor of the Life | poem |
| Did you ever stand in a Cavern's Mouth | poem |
| Remorse—is Memory—awake | poem |
| You cannot take itself | poem |
| Trusty as the stars | poem |
| Myself can read the Telegrams | poem |
| Morning that comes but once | poem |
| There is a June when Corn is cut | poem |
| The Child's faith is new | poem |
| In Winter in my Room | poem |
| An Antiquated Tree | poem |
| Lightly stepped a yellow star | poem |
| Surprise is like a thrilling—pungent— | poem |
| Wolfe demanded during dying | poem |
| Inconceivably solemn! | poem |
| Rearrange a "Wife's" affection! | poem |
| Because 'twas Riches I could own | poem |
| None who saw it ever told it | poem |
| If those I loved were lost | poem |
| Truth—is as old as God | poem |
| To die—takes just a little while | poem |
| An altered look about the hills | poem |
| Some—Work for Immortality | poem |
| Had I known that the first was the last | poem |
| Few, yet enough | poem |
| The Body grows without | poem |
| Without this—there is nought | poem |
| She dealt her pretty words like Blades | poem |
| Just lost, when I was saved! | poem |
| Did Our Best Moment last | poem |
| Somewhat, to hope for | poem |
| My River runs to thee | poem |
| Who has not found the Heaven—below— | poem |
| He told a homely tale | poem |
| Unto the Whole—how add? | poem |
| Immured in Heaven! | poem |
| I never saw a Moor— | poem |
| The fairest Home I ever knew | poem |
| Not any sunny tone | poem |
| Upon the gallows hung a wretch | poem |
| How many Flowers fail in Wood | poem |
| The gleam of an heroic Act | poem |
| Read—Sweet—how others—strove | poem |
| How happy I was if I could forget | poem |
| Ribbons of the Year | poem |
| I could die—to know | poem |
| As imperceptibly as Grief | poem |
| An honest Tear | poem |
| As if I asked a common Alms | poem |
| We should not mind so small a flower | poem |
| But little Carmine hath her face | poem |
| So bashful when I spied her! | poem |
| The ones that disappeared are back | poem |
| I watched the Moon around the House | poem |
| A Bee his burnished Carriage | poem |
| Glee—The great storm is over | poem |
| Just so—Jesus—raps | poem |
| Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? | poem |
| Within my Garden, rides a Bird | poem |
| The Face in evanescence lain | poem |
| Distance—is not the Realm of Fox | poem |
| The pedigree of Honey | poem |
| A Bird came down the Walk | poem |
| He forgot—and I—remembered | poem |
| As Frost is best conceived | poem |
| Two Lengths has every Day— | poem |
| We miss Her, not because We see | poem |
| As subtle as tomorrow | poem |
| Forever at His side to walk | poem |
| All I may, if small | poem |
| Soil of Flint, if steady tilled | poem |
| Those who have been in the Grave the longest | poem |
| We never know how high we are | poem |
| There is a Zone whose even Years | poem |
| If you were coming in the Fall | poem |
| I saw that the Flake was on it | poem |
| Witchcraft has not a Pedigree | poem |
| Mama never forgets her birds | poem |
| The Mountain sat upon the Plain | poem |
| Judgment is justest | poem |
| We lose—because we win | poem |
| By my Window have I for Scenery | poem |
| All men for Honor hardest work | poem |
| Away from Home are some and I— | poem |
| The Lamp burns sure—within | poem |
| Within thy Grave! | poem |
| So much Summer | poem |
| Of Death I try to think like this— | poem |
| The Thrill came slowly like a Boom for | poem |
| The Doomed—regard the Sunrise | poem |
| They won't frown always—some sweet Day | poem |
| His mind of man, a secret makes | poem |
| We'll pass without the parting | poem |
| I never told the buried gold | poem |
| 'Tis little I—could care for Pearls | poem |
| No Life can pompless pass away— | poem |
| We thirst at first—'tis Nature's Act | poem |
| It's all I have to bring today | poem |
| An Hour is a Sea | poem |
| A Night—there lay the Days between | poem |
| I dwell in Possibility | poem |
| Oh Future! thou secreted peace | poem |
| If the foolish, call them " | poem |
| How fits his Umber Coat | poem |
| I had been hungry, all the Years | poem |
| Bloom upon the Mountain—stated | poem |
| Like Men and Women Shadows walk | poem |
| It feels a shame to be Alive | poem |
| From Cocoon forth a Butterfly | poem |
| The Beggar at the Door for Fame | poem |
| Morning is due to all— | poem |
| Going to Heaven! | poem |
| Such is the Force of Happiness | poem |
| Lift it—with the Feathers | poem |
| The Sea said "Come" to the Brook— | poem |
| As Summer into Autumn slips | poem |
| Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music | poem |
| How slow the Wind— | poem |
| Those not live yet | poem |
| Death warrants are supposed to be | poem |
| Summer laid her simple Hat | poem |
| Delight—becomes pictorial | poem |
| A first Mute Coming | poem |
| All these my banners be | poem |
| The right to perish might be thought | poem |
| As Sleigh Bells seem in summer | poem |
| Of Course—I prayed | poem |
| With Pinions of Disdain | poem |
| I see thee clearer for the Grave | poem |
| Dying! Dying in the night! | poem |
| The Morning after Woe | poem |
| Make me a picture of the sun | poem |
| Whoever disenchants | poem |
| Far from Love the Heavenly Father | poem |
| A little East of Jordan | poem |
| Talk with prudence to a Beggar | poem |
| Now I knew I lost her— | poem |
| I meant to have but modest needs | poem |
| Image of Light, Adieu— | poem |
| Nor Mountain hinder Me | poem |
| Take your Heaven further on | poem |
| Of Yellow was the outer Sky | poem |
| Through the Dark Sod—as Education | poem |
| You'll find—it when you try to die | poem |
| Betrothed to Righteousness might be | poem |
| Whole Gulfs—of Red, and Fleets—of Red | poem |
| The Bird did prance—the Bee did play— | poem |
| Unit, like Death, for Whom? | poem |
| Unworthy of her Breast | poem |
| A little bread—a crust—a crumb | poem |
| I breathed enough to take the Trick | poem |
| I would distil a cup | poem |
| The Grass so little has to do | poem |
| The Moon upon her fluent Route | poem |
| I stole them from a Bee | poem |
| To lose thee—sweeter than to gain | poem |
| Sometimes with the Heart | poem |
| There is an arid Pleasure | poem |
| All things swept sole away | poem |
| Best Things dwell out of Sight | poem |
| That sacred Closet when you sweep— | poem |
| The Sun is one—and on the Tare | poem |
| As old as Woe— | poem |
| If your Nerve, deny you | poem |
| Before you thought of Spring | poem |
| Ample make this Bed | poem |
| Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower | poem |
| She died—this was the way she died | poem |
| So the Eyes accost—and sunder | poem |
| There is a pain—so utter | poem |
| Too few the mornings be | poem |
| She lay as if at play | poem |
| Winter is good—his Hoar Delights | poem |
| Lay this Laurel on the One | poem |
| Each Life Converges to some Centre | poem |
| The | poem |
| Summer begins to have the look | poem |
| The difference between Despair | poem |
| Paradise is that old mansion | poem |
| Wait till the Majesty of Death | poem |
| Opinion is a flitting thing | poem |
| "Arcturus" is his other name | poem |
| A Coffin—is a small Domain | poem |
| Portraits are to daily faces | poem |
| Of Consciousness, her awful Mate | poem |
| Who never lost, are unprepared | poem |
| I got so I could take his name | poem |
| My Cocoon tightens—Colors tease— | poem |
| In many and reportless places | poem |
| We like March | poem |
| Good Morning—Midnight | poem |
| Papa above! | poem |
| He is alive, this morning— | poem |
| Contained in this short Life | poem |
| To try to speak, and miss the way | poem |
| Nature and God—I neither knew | poem |
| This that would greet—an hour ago | poem |
| I never felt at Home—Below | poem |
| Of Glory not a Beam is left | poem |
| The Trees like Tassels—hit—and swung | poem |
| To lose one's faith—surpass | poem |
| 'Tis easier to pity those when dead | poem |
| Finite—to fail, but infinite to Venture | poem |
| The Day grew small, surrounded tight | poem |
| Title divine—is mine! | poem |
| My Garden—like the Beach | poem |
| Is Heaven a Physician? | poem |
| Nature can do no more | poem |
| To offer brave assistance | poem |
| A Flower will not trouble her, it has so small a Foot | poem |
| Many cross the Rhine | poem |
| If anybody's friend be dead | poem |
| It was given to me by the Gods | poem |
| Always Mine! | poem |
| A Cap of Lead across the sky | poem |
| In this short Life | poem |
| His little Hearse like Figure | poem |
| The Sun in reigning to the West | poem |
| "Houses"—so the Wise Men tell me | poem |
| Have any like Myself | poem |
| Her breast is fit for pearls | poem |
| When I was small, a Woman died | poem |
| No Other can reduce | poem |
| Two—were immortal twice | poem |
| Winter under cultivation | poem |
| A lane of Yellow led the eye | poem |
| Eden is that old-fashioned House | poem |
| The Spider holds a Silver Ball | poem |
| A single Screw of Flesh | poem |
| The first We knew of Him was Death— | poem |
| A stagnant pleasure like a Pool | poem |
| The event was directly behind Him | poem |
| Jesus! thy Crucifix | poem |
| A precious—mouldering pleasure | poem |
| Rather arid delight | poem |
| A great Hope fell | poem |
| If wrecked upon the Shoal of Thought | poem |
| Sweet, to have had them lost | poem |
| A little Dog that wags his tail | poem |
| Dropped into the Ether Acre | poem |
| A World made penniless by that departure | poem |
| He ate and drank the precious Words— | poem |
| 'Twas Crisis—All the length had passed | poem |
| It don't sound so terrible—quite—as it did | poem |
| To know just how He suffered—would be dear | poem |
| Ourselves we do inter with sweet derision | poem |
| Revolution is the Pod | poem |
| Going to Him! Happy letter! | poem |
| Best Witchcraft is Geometry | poem |
| The feet of people walking home | poem |
| Some one prepared this mighty show | poem |
| So from the mould | poem |
| Which is best? Heaven— | poem |
| The Province of the Saved | poem |
| Were natural mortal lady | poem |
| I tried to think a lonelier Thing | poem |
| These Fevered Days—to take them to the Forest | poem |
| Publication—is the Auction | poem |
| Fairer through Fading—as the Day | poem |
| Upon Concluded Lives | poem |
| That short—potential stir | poem |
| A doubt if it be Us | poem |
| Sweet Pirate of the heart | poem |
| A Visitor in Marl | poem |
| This Bauble was preferred of Bees | poem |
| The incidents of love | poem |
| Abraham to kill him— | poem |
| The Lightning playeth—all the while | poem |
| Knock with tremor— | poem |
| Glass was the Street—in tinsel Peril | poem |
| Soul, Wilt thou toss again? | poem |
| The Flower must not blame the Bee | poem |
| If Blame be my side—forfeit Me | poem |
| Oh Shadow on the Grass | poem |
| Come slowly—Eden! | poem |
| High from the earth I heard a bird | poem |
| He gave away his Life | poem |
| I was the slightest in the House | poem |
| In Ebon Box, when years have flown | poem |
| As One does Sickness over | poem |
| These held their Wick above the West— | poem |
| Fame is a bee | poem |
| I took my Power in my Hand | poem |
| The Life we have is very great | poem |
| Of this is Day composed | poem |
| Oh what a Grace is this | poem |
| I had a guinea golden | poem |
| One dignity delays for all | poem |
| Her face was in a bed of hair | poem |
| After the Sun comes out | poem |
| Within that little Hive | poem |
| I like a look of Agony | poem |
| "Unto Me?" I do not know you | poem |
| Pass to they Rendezvous of Light | poem |
| Bee! I'm expecting you! | poem |
| For largest Woman's Hearth I knew | poem |
| The Love a Life can show Below | poem |
| Beauty—be not caused—It Is | poem |
| That after Horror—that 'twas us | poem |
| Recollect the Face of me | poem |
| How many schemes may die | poem |
| All that I do | poem |
| Superiority to Fate | poem |
| Soto! Explore thyself! | poem |
| I could bring You Jewels—had I a mind to | poem |
| I've nothing else—to bring, You know | poem |
| So glad we are—a Stranger'd deem | poem |
| Most she touched me by her muteness | poem |
| One Blessing had I than the rest | poem |
| Our little secrets slink away— | poem |
| The lonesome for they know not What | poem |
| How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand | poem |
| Through those old Grounds of memory | poem |
| There is strength in proving that it can be borne | poem |
| I'd rather recollect a setting | poem |
| Oh give it Motion—deck it sweet | poem |
| The Heaven vests for Each | poem |
| It troubled me as once I was | poem |
| What would I give to see his face? | poem |
| Who Court obtain within Himself | poem |
| Bereaved of all, I went abroad | poem |
| God permits industrious Angels | poem |
| She staked her Feathers—Gained an Arc | poem |
| How ruthless are the gentle— | poem |
| I'm "wife"—I've finished that | poem |
| The Past is such a curious Creature | poem |
| 'Twas fighting for his Life he was— | poem |
| If pain for peace prepares | poem |
| There is a finished feeling | poem |
| A Cloud withdrew from the Sky | poem |
| Dying at my music! | poem |
| Not any higher stands the Grave | poem |
| Let Us play Yesterday | poem |
| A narrow Fellow in the Grass | poem |
| Warm in her Hand these accents lie | poem |
| The Battle fought between the Soul | poem |
| Blossoms will run away | poem |
| Let me not mar that perfect Dream | poem |
| Her sovereign People | poem |
| Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair! | poem |
| The Definition of Beauty is | poem |
| God is a distant—stately Lover | poem |
| His Mind like Fabrics of the East | poem |
| Nature assigns the Sun— | poem |
| Take all away— | poem |
| Climbing to reach the costly Hearts | poem |
| Pain—has an Element of Blank | poem |
| I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl | poem |
| To the stanch Dust | poem |
| His Bill an Auger is | poem |
| These are the days when Birds come back | poem |
| Still own thee—still thou art | poem |
| I robbed the Woods | poem |
| Her Grace is all she has— | poem |
| It ceased to hurt me, though so slow | poem |
| Twice had Summer her fair Verdure | poem |
| I cannot buy it—'tis not sold | poem |
| 'Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast Thou | poem |
| Victory comes late | poem |
| A Moth the hue of this | poem |
| Tho' I get home how late—how late | poem |
| The World—feels Dusty | poem |
| How the Waters closed above Him | poem |
| Could live— | poem |
| Of Life to own— | poem |
| I know where Wells grow—Droughtless Wells | poem |
| Purple—is fashionable twice | poem |
| Not with a Club, the Heart is broken | poem |
| I gained it so | poem |
| 'Twas Love—not me | poem |
| I went to Heaven | poem |
| We knew not that we were to live— | poem |
| Nature affects to be sedate | poem |
| The Gentian has a parched Corolla— | poem |
| My Heart upon a little Plate | poem |
| The Jay his Castanet has struck | poem |
| He lived the Life of Ambush | poem |
| I rose—because He sank | poem |
| Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell | poem |
| The Grace—Myself—might not obtain | poem |
| I sued the News—yet feared—the News | poem |
| No matter where the Saints abide | poem |
| "Morning"—means "Milking"—to the Farmer | poem |
| Safe in their Alabaster Chambers | poem |
| Experiment to me | poem |
| My wheel is in the dark | poem |
| Snow beneath whose chilly softness | poem |
| Our own possessions—though our own— | poem |
| "They have not chosen me," he said | poem |
| How fortunate the Grave | poem |
| He was weak, and I was strong—then | poem |
| Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine | poem |
| While we were fearing it, it came— | poem |
| A Secret told | poem |
| Except the Heaven had come so near | poem |
| The Sun kept setting—setting—still | poem |
| To own a Susan of my own | poem |
| "Secrets" is a daily word | poem |
| Their Barricade against the Sky | poem |
| My life closed twice before its close | poem |
| How far is it to Heaven? | poem |
| Could—I do more—for Thee | poem |
| Uncertain lease—develops lustre | poem |
| Your thoughts don't have words every day | poem |
| Fame is a fickle food | poem |
| This is my letter to the World | poem |
| The ecstasy to guess | poem |
| I know Suspense—it steps so terse | poem |
| Promise This—When You be Dying | poem |
| The Mountains—grow unnoticed | poem |
| Of all the Sounds despatched abroad | poem |
| The Stimulus, beyond the Grave | poem |
| The long sigh of the Frog | poem |
| That she forgot me was the least | poem |
| In lands I never saw—they say | poem |
| Who occupies this House? | poem |
| Heart, not so heavy as mine | poem |
| I Came to buy a smile—today | poem |
| There is no Frigate like a Book | poem |
| If this is "fading" | poem |
| Again—his voice is at the door | poem |
| The Wind took up the Northern Things | poem |
| My God—He sees thee— | poem |
| The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in his side | poem |
| We learned the Whole of Love | poem |
| Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe | poem |
| It was a quiet way— | poem |
| Gathered into the Earth | poem |
| A Murmur in the Trees—to note | poem |
| The Fingers of the Light | poem |
| It's easy to invent a Life | poem |
| This Dust, and its Feature | poem |
| I'm Nobody! Who are you? | poem |
| I've heard an Organ talk, sometimes | poem |
| Poor little Heart! | poem |
| It can't be "Summer"! | poem |
| Of whom so dear | poem |
| On my volcano grows the Grass | poem |
| Sweet hours have perished here; | poem |
| Superfluous were the Sun | poem |
| The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man | poem |
| Delight's Despair at setting | poem |
| I learned—at least—what Home could be | poem |
| The Merchant of the Picturesque | poem |
| Expectation—is Contentment | poem |
| Falsehood of Thee could I suppose | poem |
| The Devil—had he fidelity | poem |
| A chilly Peace infests the Grass | poem |
| It's such a little thing to weep | poem |
| I think to Live—may be a Bliss | poem |
| Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling | poem |
| The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants— | poem |
| "Nature" is what we see | poem |
| A Mine there is no Man would own | poem |
| The Soul that hath a Guest | poem |
| Behold this little Bane— | poem |
| Snow flakes | poem |
| I reckon—when I count it all | poem |
| Circumference thou Bride of Awe | poem |
| Somehow myself survived the Night | poem |
| I'm saying every day | poem |
| Bloom—is Result—to meet a Flower | poem |
| I think the longest Hour of all | poem |
| My Soul—accused me—And I quailed | poem |
| The immortality she gave | poem |
| Between the form of Life and Life | poem |
| Be Mine the Doom— | poem |
| As if the Sea should part | poem |
| To his simplicity | poem |
| The sweetest Heresy received | poem |
| A Burdock—clawed my Gown | poem |
| We never know we go when we are going— | poem |
| I suppose the time will come | poem |
| The World—stands—solemner—to me | poem |
| Above Oblivion's Tide there is a Pier | poem |
| He went by sleep that drowsy route | poem |
| Sunset at Night—is natural | poem |
| The last Night that She lived | poem |
| Cocoon above! Cocoon below! | poem |
| No Crowd that has occurred | poem |
| Forever—it composed of Nows | poem |
| The thought beneath so slight a film | poem |
| To put this World down, like a Bundle | poem |
| Oh, honey of an hour | poem |
| Its little Ether Hood | poem |
| So proud she was to die | poem |
| It did not surprise me | poem |
| Nobody knows this little Rose | poem |
| The Bible is an antique Volume | poem |
| This Merit hath the worst | poem |
| Tho' my destiny be Fustian | poem |
| To venerate the simple days | poem |
| The Day came slow—till Five o'clock | poem |
| A sepal, petal, and a thorn | poem |
| I have never seen "Volcanoes" | poem |
| I cannot want it more— | poem |
| You'll know it—as you know 'tis Noon | poem |
| A slash of Blue | poem |
| Remembrance has a Rear and Front— | poem |
| Of the Heart that goes in, and closes the Door | poem |
| I could not drink it, Sweet | poem |
| Adrift! A little boat adrift! | poem |
| The Infinite a sudden Guest | poem |
| Ourselves were wed one summer—dear | poem |
| There's the Battle of Burgoyne— | poem |
| The Wind begun to knead the Grass | poem |
| I had a daily Bliss | poem |
| The Dust behind I strove to join | poem |
| Her Losses make our Gains ashamed— | poem |
| To love thee Year by Year | poem |
| Hope is a strange invention— | poem |
| Too little way the House must lie | poem |
| The Crickets sang | poem |
| Dew—is the Freshet in the Grass— | poem |
| Only a Shrine, but Mine | poem |
| I fit for them— | poem |
| You constituted Time | poem |
| While Asters— | poem |
| Frequently the wood are pink | poem |
| Not One by Heaven defrauded stay— | poem |
| Death is the supple Suitor | poem |
| In rags mysterious as these | poem |
| Soul, take thy risk | poem |
| Had I not This, or This, I said | poem |
| It always felt to me—a wrong | poem |
| Glowing is her Bonnet | poem |
| The Savior must have been | poem |
| If recollecting were forgetting | poem |
| The Spirit is the Conscious Ear | poem |
| Forever honored by the Tree | poem |
| There's something quieter than sleep | poem |
| Nature rarer uses Yellow | poem |
| A little Road—not made of Man | poem |
| South Winds jostle them | poem |
| How destitute is he | poem |
| The Bee is not afraid of me | poem |
| You've seen Balloons set—Haven't You? | poem |
| Love reckons by itself—alone | poem |
| We grow accustomed to the Dark | poem |
| How fleet—how indiscreet an one— | poem |
| I make His Crescent fill or lack | poem |
| The Hills erect their Purple Heads | poem |
| You know that Portrait in the Moon | poem |
| We talked with each other about each other | poem |
| Had I presumed to hope | poem |
| Joy to have merited the Pain | poem |
| The healed Heart shows its shallow scar | poem |
| As we pass Houses musing slow | poem |
| Their Height in Heaven comforts not | poem |
| The way Hope builds his House | poem |
| Further in Summer than the Birds | poem |
| The most important population | poem |
| Shame is the shawl of Pink | poem |
| From Us She wandered now a Year | poem |
| If she had been the Mistletoe | poem |
| I have a King, who does not speak | poem |
| The Bobolink is gone— | poem |
| You'll know Her—by Her Foot | poem |
| The Future—never spoke | poem |
| There came a Wind like a Bugle— | poem |
| We introduce ourselves | poem |
| We outgrow love, like other things | poem |
| No Passenger was known to flee— | poem |
| To my small Hearth His fire came | poem |
| The Frost was never seen— | poem |
| Sweet Mountains—Ye tell Me no lie | poem |
| Those cattle smaller than a Bee | poem |
| An ignorance a Sunset | poem |
| He put the Belt around my life | poem |
| She sped as Petals of a Rose | poem |
| Take all away from me, but leave me Ecstasy | poem |
| Death is a Dialogue between | poem |
| To learn the Transport by the Pain | poem |
| Trudging to Eden, looking backward | poem |
| It would not know if it were spurned | poem |
| To flee from memory | poem |
| Further in Summer than the Birds | poem |
| The Winters are so short | poem |
| What mystery pervades a well! | poem |
| As willing lid o'er weary eye | poem |
| She died at play | poem |
| The Spirit lasts—but in what mode— | poem |
| They leave us with the Infinite | poem |
| A nearness to Tremendousness | poem |
| Experiment escorts us last— | poem |
| The Lassitudes of Contemplation | poem |
| The morns are meeker than they were | poem |
| Apology for Her | poem |
| You're right—"the way is narrow" | poem |
| The Suburbs of a Secret | poem |
| Frigid and sweet Her parting Face— | poem |
| My nosegays are for Captives | poem |
| The Service without Hope | poem |
| I made slow Riches but my Gain | poem |
| Exhilaration is the Breeze | poem |
| The Guest is gold and crimson | poem |
| The Color of the Grave is Green | poem |
| Twas such a little—little boat | poem |
| The face I carry with me—last | poem |
| From his slim Palace in the Dust | poem |
| Who abdicated Ambush | poem |
| The Spider as an Artist | poem |
| Empty my Heart, of Thee | poem |
| Perhaps you think me stooping | poem |
| I Years had been from Home | poem |
| To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee | poem |
| To my quick ear the Leaves—conferred | poem |
| The power to be true to You | poem |
| Denial—is the only fact | poem |
| I never hear that one is dead | poem |
| I never lost as much but twice | poem |
| To wait an Hour—is long | poem |
| This was a Poet—It is That | poem |
| His Bill is clasped—his Eye forsook— | poem |
| Endow the Living—with the Tears | poem |
| I send Two Sunsets | poem |
| It was too late for Man | poem |
| A Clock stopped | poem |
| Wonder—is not precisely Knowing | poem |
| It makes no difference abroad | poem |
| The last Night that She lived | poem |
| The Test of Love—is Death | poem |
| If all the griefs I am to have | poem |
| The Life that tied too tight escapes | poem |
| Tell all the Truth but tell it slant— | poem |
| The Lightning is a yellow Fork | poem |
| The Heart asks Pleasure—first | poem |
| 'Tis not the swaying frame we miss | poem |
| She bore it till the simple veins | poem |
| Of nearness to her sundered Things | poem |
| Death is potential to that Man | poem |
| The Summer that we did not prize | poem |
| It was not Saint—it was too large— | poem |
| Perhaps they do not go so far | poem |
| 'Twas awkward, but it fitted me | poem |
| No Autumn's intercepting Chill | poem |
| In falling Timbers buried | poem |
| The mob within the heart | poem |
| Escaping backward to perceive | poem |
| Of Paradise' existence | poem |
| When I count the seeds | poem |
| Ah, Moon—and Star! | poem |
| What did They do since I saw Them? | poem |
| A Door just opened on a street | poem |
| You taught me Waiting with Myself | poem |
| The Moon is distant from the Sea | poem |
| Lad of Athens, faithful be | poem |
| Where Roses would not dare to go | poem |
| If Nature smiles—the Mother must | poem |
| Grief is a Mouse | poem |
| Did We abolish Frost | poem |
| I felt a Cleaving in my Mind | poem |
| Never for Society | poem |
| We don't cry—Tim and I | poem |
| A long—long Sleep—A famous—Sleep | poem |
| Lest this be Heaven indeed | poem |
| I cried at Pity—not at Pain | poem |
| Some say goodnight—at night— | poem |
| Had we our senses | poem |
| Fame of Myself, to justify | poem |
| A House upon the Height | poem |
| Beauty crowds me till I die | poem |
| Struck, was I, not yet by Lightning | poem |
| If I'm lost—now | poem |
| It struck me—every Day | poem |
| The earth has many keys | poem |
| 'Tis good—the looking back on Grief | poem |
| I shall keep singing! | poem |
| He fought like those Who've nought to lose | poem |
| Her smile was shaped like other smiles | poem |
| The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves | poem |
| At Half past Three, a single Bird | poem |
| A little Snow was here and there | poem |
| Partake as doth the Bee | poem |
| Don't put up my Thread and Needle | poem |
| Is Immortality a bane | poem |
| Candor—my tepid friend— | poem |
| I stepped from Plank to Plank | poem |
| I lost a World - the other day! | poem |
| My first well Day—since many ill | poem |
| At leisure is the Soul | poem |
| The Clover's simple Fame | poem |
| The Days that we can spare | poem |
| To mend each tattered Faith | poem |
| His oriental heresies | poem |
| A shady friend—for Torrid days | poem |
| I was a Phoebe—nothing more— | poem |
| Behind Me—dips Eternity | poem |
| What tenements of clover | poem |
| My Wars are laid away in Books— | poem |
| Conjecturing a Climate | poem |
| A still—Volcano—Life | poem |
| The Fact that Earth is Heaven— | poem |
| Dreams are the subtle Dower | poem |
| I never saw a Moor | poem |
| It rises—passes—on our South | poem |
| To fight aloud, is very brave | poem |
| A Word dropped careless on a Page | poem |