#AmericanWriters
192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
Of all the souls that stand create I have elected one. When sense from spirit files away, And subterfuge is done; When that which is and that which…
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
743 The Birds reported from the South… A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today—
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—