#AmericanWriters
992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—
874 They won’t frown always—some sweet… When I forget to tease— They’ll recollect how cold I look… And how I just said “Please.”
270 One Life of so much Consequence! Yet I—for it—would pay— My Soul’s entire income— In ceaseless—salary—
LXII BEFORE I got my eye put out, I liked as well to see As other creatures that have eyes, And know no other way.
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
425 Good Morning’—Midnight’— I’m coming Home’— Day’—got tired of Me’— How could I’—of Him?
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
628 They called me to the Window, for “ ’Twas Sunset”—Some one said— I only saw a Sapphire Farm— And just a Single Herd—