#AmericanWriters
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—
336 The face I carry with me’—last’— When I go out of Time’— To take my Rank’—by’—in the West’… That face’—will just be thine’—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
XL I NEVER lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod; Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.