#AmericanWriters
Not with a club, the Heart is bro… Nor with a stone; A whip, so small you could not see… I’ve known To lash the magic creature
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs— Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin
528 Mine—by the Right of the White E… Mine—by the Royal Seal! Mine—by the sign in the Scarlet p… Bars—cannot conceal!
138 Pigmy seraphs’—gone astray’— Velvet people from Vevay’— Balles from some lost summer day’— Bees exclusive Coterie’—
430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —
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…
980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.
38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!
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,
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West