#AmericanWriters
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
818 I could not drink it, Sweet, Till You had tasted first, Though cooler than the Water was The Thoughtfullness of Thirst.
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one
768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
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
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
