#AmericanWriters
We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
IX THE heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering;
357 God is a distant—stately Lover— Woos, as He states us—by His Son… Verily, a Vicarious Courtship— “Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were su…
443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me—
Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
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…
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
This quiet dust was gentlemen and… And lads and girls; Was laughter and ability and sighi… And frocks and curls; This passive place a summer’s nimb…