#AmericanWriters
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
461 A Wife—at daybreak I shall be— Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me? At Midnight, I am but a Maid, How short it takes to make a Brid…
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
716 The Day undressed—Herself— Her Garter—was of Gold— Her Petticoat—of Purple plain— Her Dimities—as old
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
961 Wert Thou but ill—that I might sh… How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on… Nor the least signal, Me assure—
55 By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted— Which blossom in the dark.
674 The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad— Diviner Crowd at Home— Obliterate the need—
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—