#AmericanWriters
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
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…
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
XXI HE ate and drank the precious wor… His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust.
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
603 He found my Being—set it up— Adjusted it to place— Then carved his name—upon it— And bade it to the East
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud