#AmericanWriters
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
192 Poor little Heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little Heart!
635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time
416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—
She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—
158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
936 This Dust, and its Feature— Accredited—Today—Will in a s… Cease to identify— This Mind, and its measure—
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;