#AmericanWriters
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
783 The Birds begun at Four o’clock— Their period for Dawn— A Music numerous as space— But neighboring as Noon—
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
XV I know some lonely houses off the… A robber ’d like the look of,— Wooden barred, And windows hanging low,
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal