#AmericanWriters
XXVIII A CHARM invests a face Imperfectly beheld,— The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled.
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
Much Madness is divinest Sense - To a discerning Eye - Much Sense– the starkest Madness… ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -
114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
91 So bashful when I spied her! So pretty—so ashamed! So hidden in her leaflets Lest anybody find—
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,