#AmericanWriters
Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
It's thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a str… Unwind the solemn twine, and tie m… Oh the Earth was made for lovers,… For sighing, and gentle whispering… All things do go a courting, in ea…
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –