#AmericanWriters
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
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—
217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
Death sets a thing significant The eye had hurried by, Except a perished creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little workmanships
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
528 Mine—by the Right of the White E… Mine—by the Royal Seal! Mine—by the sign in the Scarlet p… Bars—cannot conceal!
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—