#AmericanWriters
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend
I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died
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
The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -
678 Wolfe demanded during dying “Which obtain the Day”? “General, the British”—"Easy” Answered Wolfe “to die”
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,
358 If any sink, assure that this, now… Failed like Themselves—and consci… Grew by the Fact, and not the Und… How Weakness passed—or Force—aros…
690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched… Sleep the meek members of the resu… Rafter of satin, and roof of stone… Light laughs the breeze in her cas…
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face