#AmericanWriters
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
Let me not mar that perfect Dream By an Auroral stain But so adjust my daily Night That it will come again. Not when we know, the Power accos…
906 The Admirations’—and Contempts’—o… Show justest’—through an Open Tom… The Dying’—as it were a Height Reorganizes Estimate
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
427 I'll clutch — and clutch — Next — One — Might be the golden… Could take it — Diamonds — Wait —
223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
109 By a flower—By a letter— By a nimble love— If I weld the Rivet faster— Final fast—above—
