#AmericanWriters
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
Part One: Life LI IT tossed and tossed,— A little brig I knew,— O’ertook by blast,
XXVII I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you k…
645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
