#AmericanWriters
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.
A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!
156 You love me—you are sure— I shall not fear mistake— I shall not cheated wake— Some grinning morn—
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
There’s been a death in the opposi… As lately as to-day. I know it by the numb look Such houses have alway. The neighbors rustle in and out,
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,
THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—