#AmericanWriters
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
You love the Lord—you cannot see— You write Him—every day— A little note—when you awake— And further in the Day. An Ample Letter—How you miss—
Like trains of cars on tracks of p… I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
