#AmericanWriters
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
“Arcturus” is his other name’— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere! I slew a worm the other day’—
201 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar— Until the morning sun— When One—turned smiling to the la… Oh God! the Other One!
23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal
I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way — And so I deck, a little, If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!