#AmericanWriters
A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
378 I saw no Way—The Heavens were st… I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemisphere… I touched the Universe—
666 Ah, Teneriffe! Retreating Mountain! Purples of Ages—pause for you— Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regim…
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—