#AmericanWriters
Lightly stepped a yellow star To its lofty place - Loosed the Moon her silver hat From her lustral Face - All of Evening softly lit
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
749 All but Death, can be Adjusted— Dynasties repaired— Systems—settled in their Sockets— Citadels—dissolved—
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—
558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;