#AmericanWriters
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—
134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil
FORBIDDEN fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks!
Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar
226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—
179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…
101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
482 We Cover Thee—Sweet Face— Not that We tire of Thee— But that Thyself fatigue of Us— Remember—as Thou go—
199 I’m “wife”'—I’ve finished that’— That other state’— I’m Czar’—I’m “Woman” now’— It’s safer so’—
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,