#AmericanWriters
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
466 ’Tis little I—could care for Pear… Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me—
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
632 The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside—
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
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,
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—