#AmericanWriters
265 Where Ships of Purple—gently toss… On Seas of Daffodil— Fantastic Sailors—mingle— And then—the Wharf is still!
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.
A Pang is more conspicuous in Spr… In contrast with the things that s… Not Birds entirely– but Minds – Minute Effulgencies and Winds - When what they sung for is undone
391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—