#AmericanWriters
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?
108 Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the Culprit—Life!
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
FORBIDDEN fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks!
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks
771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—