#AmericanWriters
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,
761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—
372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
118 My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist!
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— 'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base