#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
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
873 Ribbons of the Year— Multitude Brocade— Worn to Nature’s Party once Then, as flung aside
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
498 I envy Seas, whereon He rides— I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey— I envy Crooked Hills
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—
A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—
537 Me prove it now—Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it—now— Make haste—the Scruple! Death be… For Opportunity—
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 Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—