#AmericanWriters
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
482 We Cover Thee’—Sweet Face’— Not that We tire of Thee’— But that Thyself fatigue of Us’— Remember’—as Thou go’—
Proud of my broken heart, since th… Proud of the pain, I did not feel… Proud of my night, since thou, wit… Not to partake thy passion, –my hu… Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus…
I held a Jewel in my fingers’— And went to sleep’— The day was warm, and winds were p… I said 'Twill keep’— I woke’—and chid my honest fingers…
Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket
634 You’ll know Her’—by Her Foot’— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers’—where the Toes shou… Would more affront the Sand’—
514 Her smile was shaped like other sm… The Dimples ran along— And still it hurt you, as some Bi… Did hoist herself, to sing,
461 A Wife—at daybreak I shall be— Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me? At Midnight, I am but a Maid, How short it takes to make a Brid…
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What fortitude the Soul contains
106 The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there—
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—
It's thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—
952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—
“Nature” is what we see’— The Hill’—the Afternoon’— Squirrel’—Eclipse’—the Bumble bee… Nay’—Nature is Heaven’— Nature is what we hear’—
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—