#AmericanWriters
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how
XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,
869 Because the Bee may blameless hum For Thee a Bee do I become List even unto Me. Because the Flowers unafraid
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.
March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -
A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
619 Glee—The great storm is over— Four—have recovered the Land— Forty gone down together— Into the boiling Sand.