#AmericanWriters
302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June
443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me—
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
227 Teach Him’—When He makes the nam… Such an one’—to say’— On his babbling’—Berry’—lips’— As should sound’—to me’—
470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—
865 He outstripped Time with but a Bo… He outstripped Stars and Sun And then, unjaded, challenged God In presence of the Throne.
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—
941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—
626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.