#AmericanWriters
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing
48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
1000 The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.”
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 't is said, a sinking… Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever
816 A Death blow is a Life blow to S… Who till they died, did not alive… Who had they lived, had died but w… They died, Vitality begun.
896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
682 'Twould ease — a Butterfly — Elate — a Bee — Thou'rt neither — Neither — thy capacity —
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake