#AmericanWriters
315 He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Keys Before they drop full Music on— He stuns you by degrees—
979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
132 I bring an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching Next to mine, And summon them to drink;
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—
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
XXV BELSHAZZAR had a letter,— He never had but one; Belshazzar’s correspondent Concluded and begun
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
MINE by the right of the white e… Mine by the royal seal! Mine by the sign in the scarlet pr… Bars cannot conceal! Mine, here in vision and in veto!
777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—