#AmericanWriters
410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
“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.
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
Two butterflies went out at noon And waltzed above a stream, Then stepped straight through the… And rested on a beam; And then together bore away
61 Papa above! Regard a Mouse O’erpowered by the Cat! Reserve within thy kingdom
They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…
942 Snow beneath whose chilly softness Some that never lay Make their first Repose this Wint… I admonish Thee
740 You taught me Waiting with Myself… Appointment strictly kept’— You taught me fortitude of Fate’— This’—also’—I have learnt’—
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.