#AmericanWriters
48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—
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,
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
606 The Trees like Tassels—hit—and sw… There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun—
LXXXVI A LADY red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps!
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.
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?
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,