#AmericanWriters
453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
371 A precious’—mouldering pleasure’—'… To meet an Antique Book’— In just the Dress his Century wor… A privilege’—I think’—
Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—
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…
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—