#AmericanWriters
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
988 The Definition of Beauty is That Definition is none— Of Heaven, easing Analysis, Since Heaven and He are one.
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
My Garden’—like the Beach’— Denotes there be’—a Sea’— That’s Summer’— Such as These’—the Pearls She fetches’—such as Me
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds
1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
578 The Body grows without— The more convenient way— That if the Spirit—like to hide Its Temple stands, alway,
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me