#AmericanWriters
LXXXVI A LADY red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps!
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers— Untouched by Morning— and untouched by noon— Sleep the meek members of the Res… Rafter of Satin and Roof of Ston…
307 The One who could repeat the Summ… Were greater than itself—though H… Minutest of Mankind should be— And He—could reproduce the Sun—
“Why do I love” You, Sir? Because’— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer’—Wherefore when He pass She cannot keep Her place.
725 Where Thou art—that—is Home— Cashmere—or Calvary—the same— Degree—or Shame— I scarce esteem Location’s Name—
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—