#AmericanWriters
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—
342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
427 I'll clutch — and clutch — Next — One — Might be the golden… Could take it — Diamonds — Wait —
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
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
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—