#AmericanWriters
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
869 Because the Bee may blameless hum For Thee a Bee do I become List even unto Me. Because the Flowers unafraid
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—