#AmericanWriters
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—
MINE enemy is growing old, I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge, Let him be quick, the viand flits,
448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,