#AmericanWriters
936 This Dust, and its Feature— Accredited—Today—Will in a s… Cease to identify— This Mind, and its measure—
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
The Grass so little has to do ' A Sphere of simple Green ' With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain ' And stir all day to pretty Tunes
XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
960 As plan for Noon and plan for Nig… So differ Life and Death In positive Prospective— The Foot upon the Earth
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!