#AmericanWriters
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
“Speech”'—is a prank of Parliamen… “Tears”'—is a trick of the nerve’— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn’t’—always’—move’—
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
522 Had I presumed to hope— The loss had been to Me A Value—for the Greatness’ Sake— As Giants—gone away—
Each life converges to some centre Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal, Admitted scarcely to itself, it ma…
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
769 One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for schools— But for minor Choosing—
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,
122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—