#AmericanWriters
Part One: Life LIII GOD gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv…
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees, Prepares your brittle substance
503 Better—than Music! For I—who hea… I was used—to the Birds—before— This—was different—’Twas Translat… Of all tunes I knew—and more—
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
345 Funny’—to be a Century’— And see the People’—going by’— I’—should die of the Oddity’— But then’—I’m not so staid’—as He…
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.