#AmericanWriters
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—