#AmericanWriters
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
194 On this long storm the Rainbow ro… On this late Morn—the Sun— The clouds—like listless Elephant… Horizons—straggled down—
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 't is said, a sinking… Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
Tell all the Truth but tell it sl… Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth’s superb surprise As Lightning to the Children ease…
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?
399 A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached—
LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.