#AmericanWriters
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
688 “Speech”—is a prank of Parliament… “Tears”—is a trick of the nerve— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn't—always—move—
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn
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?
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
519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…