#AmericanWriters
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—