#AmericanWriters
786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
998 Best Things dwell out of Sight The Pearl—the Just—Our Thought. Most shun the Public Air Legitimate, and Rare—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
IF I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
703 Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird—reach it! Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep— Round the Steep Air—
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
864 The Robin for the Crumb Returns no syllable But long records the Lady’s name In Silver Chronicle.