#AmericanWriters
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
775 If Blame be my side’—forfeit Me’— But doom me not to forfeit Thee’— To forfeit Thee? The very name Is sentence from Belief’—and Hous…
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
283 A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child—Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—