#AmericanWriters
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
Not any sunny tone From any fervent zone Find entrance there - Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature’s home -
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
858 This Chasm, Sweet, upon my life I mention it to you, When Sunrise through a fissure dr… The Day must follow too.
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
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,
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
I bet with every Wind that blew Till Nature in chagrin Employed a Fact to visit me And scuttle my Balloon -
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.