#AmericanWriters
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
708 I sometimes drop it, for a Quick— The Thought to be alive— Anonymous Delight to know— And Madder—to conceive—
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—
185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
577 If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented—so— If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me—
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—