#AmericanWriters
21 We lose’—because we win’— Gamblers’—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin,—so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the b…
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
165 A Wounded Deer—leaps highest— I’ve heard the Hunter tell— ’Tis but the Ecstasy of death— And then the Brake is still!
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;