#AmericanWriters
447 Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
652 A Prison gets to be a friend— Between its Ponderous face And Ours—a Kinsmanship express— And in its narrow Eyes—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
377 To lose one’s faith—surpass The loss of an Estate— Because Estates can be Replenished—faith cannot—
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—