#AmericanWriters
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop
Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—
Proud of my broken heart, since th… Proud of the pain, I did not feel… Proud of my night, since thou, wit… Not to partake thy passion, –my hu… Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus…
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
LXVII If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam,
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—