#AmericanWriters
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
631 Ourselves were wed one summer’—dea… Your Vision’—was in June’— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied’—too’—of mine’—
573 The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth—
LXVII A DEED knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.