#AmericanWriters
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
232 The Sun’—just touched the Morning… The Morning’—Happy thing’— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
577 If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented—so— If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me—
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
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,
73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude