#AmericanWriters
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
971 Robbed by Death—but that was easy… To the failing Eye I could hold the latest Glowing— Robbed by Liberty
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
It's thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…