#AmericanWriters
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
348 I would not paint — a picture — I'd rather be the One It's bright impossibility To dwell — delicious — on —
A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
I held a Jewel in my fingers’— And went to sleep’— The day was warm, and winds were p… I said 'Twill keep’— I woke’—and chid my honest fingers…
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—
167 To learn the Transport by the Pai… As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst—suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run!
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.