#AmericanWriters
A Pang is more conspicuous in Spr… In contrast with the things that s… Not Birds entirely– but Minds – Minute Effulgencies and Winds - When what they sung for is undone
443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
205 I should not dare to leave my frie… Because—because if he should die While I was gone—and I—too late— Should reach the Heart that wante…
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—
292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—
142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
LXVII If I should die, And you should live, And time should gurgle on, And morn should beam,
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?