#AmericanWriters
518 Her sweet Weight on my Heart a N… Had scarcely deigned to lie— When, stirring, for Belief’s deli… My Bride had slipped away—
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,
293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—
617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—
631 Ourselves were wed one summer’—dea… Your Vision’—was in June’— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied’—too’—of mine’—
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
SUCCESS is counted sweetest By those who ne’er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple host