#AmericanWriters
941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize
732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—
578 The Body grows without— The more convenient way— That if the Spirit—like to hide Its Temple stands, alway,
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
154 Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels—lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown.
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost
273 He put the Belt around my life I heard the Buckle snap— And turned away, imperial, My Lifetime folding up—
CXXVIII I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm.
A still – Volcano – Life – That flickered in the night – When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight – A quiet – Earthquake Style –