#AmericanWriters
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
118 My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist!
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
Me prove it now —Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it —now — Make haste —the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity — The River reaches to my feet —
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
FATE slew him, but he did not dr… She felled’—he did not fall’— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes… He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm adv…
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
716 The Day undressed—Herself— Her Garter—was of Gold— Her Petticoat—of Purple plain— Her Dimities—as old
261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to cha… Passive—as Granite—laps My Music…
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
7 The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus—til she rises The Vassal of the snow—
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.