#AmericanWriters
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
573 The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth—
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me– The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality. We slowly drove– He knew no haste
947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?