#AmericanWriters
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
500 Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel— Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill—
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
207 Tho’ I get home how late’—how lat… So I get home - 'twill compensate… Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me’—
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since