#AmericanWriters
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
These Fevered Days—to take them t… Where Waters cool around the moss… And shade is all that devastates t… Seems it sometimes this would be a…
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
531 We dream—it is good we are dreamin… It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek—
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—