#AmericanWriters
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
43 Could live—did live— Could die—did die— Could smile upon the whole Through faith in one he met not,
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—
273 He put the Belt around my life I heard the Buckle snap— And turned away, imperial, My Lifetime folding up—
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?