"If I read a book [and] it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?"

“Dreams – are well – but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn – If One wake at Midnight – better – Dreaming – of the Dawn –”

“Could Hope inspect her BasisHer Craft were done –Has a fictitious CharterOr it has none –Balked in the vastest instanceBut to renew –Felled but by one assassin –Prosperity –”

“Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast; Grant, God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest.Please God, might I behold him In epauletted white, I should not fear the foe then, I should not fear the fight.”

“Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –”

“We passed the School, where Children stroveAt Recess – in the Ring –”

“Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility –”