#AmericanWriters
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
734 If He were living—dare I ask— And how if He be dead— And so around the Words I went— Of meeting them—afraid—
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
528 Mine—by the Right of the White E… Mine—by the Royal Seal! Mine—by the sign in the Scarlet p… Bars—cannot conceal!
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,
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
580 I gave myself to Him— And took Himself, for Pay, The solemn contract of a Life Was ratified, this way—