#AmericanWriters
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even—
424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—