#AmericanWriters
I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
348 I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though—
Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
595 Like Mighty Foot Lights’—burned… At Bases of the Trees’— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting’—to These’—
517 He parts Himself’—like Leaves’— And then’—He closes up’— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup’—
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
66 So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From saga…
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—