#AmericanWriters
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
357 God is a distant—stately Lover— Woos, as He states us—by His Son… Verily, a Vicarious Courtship— “Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were su…
506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
684 Best Gains’—must have the Losses’… To constitute them’—Gains’—
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.
634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—