#AmericanWriters
256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—
989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
329 So glad we are—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear—
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?
As from the earth the light Ballo… Asks nothing but release - Ascension that for which it was, Its soaring Residence. The spirit looks upon the Dust
