#AmericanWriters
571 Must be a Woe— A loss or so— To bend the eye Best Beauty’s way—
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,
137 Flowers—Well—if anybody Can the ecstasy define— Half a transport—half a trouble— With which flowers humble men:
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away
10 My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
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—
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
