#AmericanWriters
424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see
551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!