#AmericanWriters
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
There is another Loneliness That many die without - Not want of friend occasions it Or circumstances of Lot But nature, sometimes, sometimes t…
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
126 To fight aloud, is very brave— But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe—
21 We lose—because we win— Gamblers—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
755 No Bobolink—reverse His Singing When the only Tree Ever He minded occupying By the Farmer be—
81 We should not mind so small a flow… Except it quiet bring Our little garden that we lost Back to the Lawn again.
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
