#AmericanWriters
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
882 A Shade upon the mind there passe… As when on Noon A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses Remembering
878 The Sun is gay or stark According to our Deed. If Merry, He is merrier— If eager for the Dead
19 A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer’s morn— A flask of Dew—A Bee or two— A Breeze—a caper in the trees—
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
546 To fill a Gap Insert the Thing that caused it— Block it up With Other—and 'twill yawn the mo…
936 This Dust, and its Feature— Accredited—Today—Will in a s… Cease to identify— This Mind, and its measure—
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
190 He was weak, and I was strong—the… So He let me lead him in— I was weak, and He was strong the… So I let him lead me—Home.
1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—