#AmericanWriters
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—
58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…
175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—
666 Ah, Teneriffe! Retreating Mountain! Purples of Ages—pause for you— Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regim…
Part One: Life LIV EXPERIMENT to me Is every one I meet. If it contain a kernel?
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,
160 Just lost, when I was saved! Just felt the world go by! Just girt me for the onset with E… When breath blew back,
354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—
21 We lose’—because we win’— Gamblers’—recollecting which Toss their dice again!