#AmericanWriters
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a str… Unwind the solemn twine, and tie m… Oh the Earth was made for lovers,… For sighing, and gentle whispering… All things do go a courting, in ea…
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!
546 To fill a Gap Insert the Thing that caused it— Block it up With Other—and 'twill yawn the mo…
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
674 The Soul that hath a Guest Doth seldom go abroad— Diviner Crowd at Home— Obliterate the need—
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,