#AmericanWriters
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize
799 Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering—Despair— To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore—
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
82 Whose cheek is this? What rosy face Has lost a blush today? I found her—"pleiad"—in the woods
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
33 If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not. And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot.
Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.