#AmericanWriters
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—
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
406 Some’—Work for Immortality’— The Chiefer part, for Time’— He’—Compensates’—immediately’— The former’—Checks’—on Fame’—
992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—
Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself— Tastes Death—the first—to hand th…
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
209 With thee, in the Desert— With thee in the thirst— With thee in the Tamarind wood— Leopard breathes—at last!
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
743 The Birds reported from the South… A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today—