#AmericanWriters
831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
189 It’s such a little thing to weep— So short a thing to sigh— And yet—by Trades—the size of the… We men and women die!
896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,