#AmericanWriters
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
459 A Tooth upon Our Peace The Peace cannot deface— Then Wherefore be the Tooth? To vitalize the Grace—
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?
The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low,— He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky. The leaves unhooked themselves fro…
677 To be alive’—is Power’— Existence’—in itself’— Without a further function’— Omnipotence’—Enough’—
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
798 She staked her Feathers—Gained an… Debated—Rose again— This time—beyond the estimate Of Envy, or of Men—
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.