#AmericanWriters
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—
394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
596 When I was small, a Woman died— Today—her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac— His face all Victory
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…