#AmericanWriters
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—
Rearrange a 'Wife’s’ affection! When they dislocate my Brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit, in thy Fastness…
961 Wert Thou but ill—that I might sh… How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on… Nor the least signal, Me assure—
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
368 How sick—to wait—in any place—but… I knew last night—when someone tri… Thinking—perhaps—that I looked ti… Or breaking—almost—with unspoken p…
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—