#AmericanWriters
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize
732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
725 Where Thou art—that—is Home— Cashmere—or Calvary—the same— Degree—or Shame— I scarce esteem Location’s Name—
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!
414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony