#AmericanWriters
708 I sometimes drop it, for a Quick— The Thought to be alive— Anonymous Delight to know— And Madder—to conceive—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
Not with a club, the Heart is bro… Nor with a stone; A whip, so small you could not see… I’ve known To lash the magic creature
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…