#AmericanWriters
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
298 Alone, I cannot be— For Hosts—do visit me— Recordless Company— Who baffle Key—
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
79 Going to Heaven! I don’t know when— Pray do not ask me how! Indeed I’m too astonished
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time
She could not live upon the Past The Present did not know her And so she sought this sweet at la… And nature gently owned her The mother that has not a knell
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
313 I should have been too glad, I se… Too lifted—for the scant degree Of Life’s penurious Round— My little Circuit would have sham…
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society
VIII A wounded deer leaps highest, I ’ve heard the hunter tell; ’T is but the ecstasy of death, And then the brake is still.
XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step
