Many a phrase has the English language -
I have heard but one -
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud, as the Thunder's Tongue -
Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,
When the Tide's a' lull -
Saying itself in new inflection -
Like a Whippowil -
Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep -
Thundering it's Prospective -
Till I stir, and weep -
Not for the Sorrow, done me -
But the push of Joy -
Say it again, Saxon!
Hush - Only to me!
Emily Dickinson
Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New life"...
No Notice gave She, but a Change -
No Message, but a Sigh -
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill -
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And p...