#AmericanWriters
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—
538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—
Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds
397 When Diamonds are a Legend, And Diadems—a Tale— I Brooch and Earrings for Myself… Do sow, and Raise for sale—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
My Garden’—like the Beach’— Denotes there be’—a Sea’— That’s Summer’— Such as These’—the Pearls She fetches’—such as Me
XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—