#AmericanWriters
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—
396 There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain— ’Tis Pain’s Successor—When the S… Has suffered all it can—
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—
Departed to the judgment, A mighty afternoon; Great clouds like ushers leaning, Creation looking on. The flesh surrendered, cancelled
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—