#AmericanWriters
The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
998 Best Things dwell out of Sight The Pearl—the Just—Our Thought. Most shun the Public Air Legitimate, and Rare—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—
172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much jo… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw!
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—
558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
Like trains of cars on tracks of p… I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,