#AmericanWriters
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
518 Her sweet Weight on my Heart a N… Had scarcely deigned to lie— When, stirring, for Belief’s deli… My Bride had slipped away—
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
To my quick ear the leaves conferr… The bushes they were bells; I could not find a privacy From Nature’s sentinels. In cave if I presumed to hide,
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;
200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
118 My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist!