#AmericanWriters
129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
A Sickness of this World it most… When Best Men die. A Wishfulness their far Condition To occupy. A Chief indifference, as Foreign
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
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—
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—