#AmericanWriters
My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face