#AmericanWriters
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when
It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -
977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
XXV BELSHAZZAR had a letter,— He never had but one; Belshazzar’s correspondent Concluded and begun
549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—
432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live