#AmericanWriters
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
338 I know that He exists. Somewhere—in Silence— He has hid his rare life From our gross eyes.
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
357 God is a distant—stately Lover— Woos, as He states us—by His Son… Verily, a Vicarious Courtship— “Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were su…
Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen
348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
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
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—