#AmericanWriters
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.
591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow
227 Teach Him’—When He makes the nam… Such an one’—to say’— On his babbling’—Berry’—lips’— As should sound’—to me’—
438 Forget! The lady with the Amulet Forget she wore it at her Heart Because she breathed against Was Treason twixt?
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
801 I play at Riches’—to appease The Clamoring for Gold’— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold
653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—
XXXVIII THROUGH the straight pass of su… The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God.
FATE slew him, but he did not dr… She felled’—he did not fall’— Impaled him on her fiercest stakes… He neutralized them all. She stung him, sapped his firm adv…