#AmericanWriters
631 Ourselves were wed one summer’—dea… Your Vision’—was in June’— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied’—too’—of mine’—
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
368 How sick—to wait—in any place—but… I knew last night—when someone tri… Thinking—perhaps—that I looked ti… Or breaking—almost—with unspoken p…
743 The Birds reported from the South… A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today—
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go
742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—
149 She went as quiet as the Dew From an Accustomed flower. Not like the Dew, did she return At the Accustomed hour!
616 I rose—because He sank— I thought it would be opposite— But when his power dropped— My Soul grew straight.
684 Best Gains’—must have the Losses’… To constitute them’—Gains’—
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
840 I cannot buy it—’tis not sold— There is no other in the World— Mine was the only one I was so happy I forgot
639 My Portion is Defeat—today— A paler luck than Victory— Less Paeans—fewer Bells— The Drums don’t follow Me—with tu…
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone