#AmericanWriters
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
You said that I “was Great”'—one… Then “Great” it be’—if that pleas… Or Small’—or any size at all’— Nay’—I’m the size suit Thee’— Tall’—like the Stag’—would that?
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
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…
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.