#AmericanWriters
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
604 Unto my Books’—so good to turn’— Far ends of tired Days’— It half endears the Abstinence’— And Pain’—is missed’—in Praise’—
133 As Children bid the Guest “Good… And then reluctant turn— My flowers raise their pretty lips… Then put their nightgowns on.
40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
XXVII BECAUSE I could not stop for D… He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Oursel… And Immortality.