#AmericanWriters
921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
106 The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet— He—waking—finds the flower there—
121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
XXVI THE brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ’T were easier for you
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What fortitude the Soul contains
93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!
598 Three times—we parted—Breath—and… Three times—He would not go— But strove to stir the lifeless F… The Waters—strove to stay.
968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—