#AmericanWriters
301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
400 A Tongue’—to tell Him I am true! Its fee’—to be of Gold’— Had Nature’—in Her monstrous Hou… A single Ragged Child’—
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
Whole Gulfs– of Red, and Fleets… And Crews– of solid Blood – Did place upon the West– Tonight… As ’twere specific Ground - And They– appointed Creatures –
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—