#AmericanWriters
688 “Speech”—is a prank of Parliament… “Tears”—is a trick of the nerve— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn't—always—move—
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
378 I saw no Way—The Heavens were st… I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemisphere… I touched the Universe—
Tie the strings to my life, my Lo… Then I am ready to go! Just a look at the horses— Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side,
We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!