#AmericanWriters #Desire #InfatuationAndCrushes #Love #Metaphor #Relationships #RhymedStanza #Romantic#Love
200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
XVI TO fight aloud is very brave, But gallanter, I know, Who charge within the bosom, The cavalry of woe.
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—