#AmericanWriters
139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
I held a Jewel in my fingers’— And went to sleep’— The day was warm, and winds were p… I said 'Twill keep’— I woke’—and chid my honest fingers…
After great pain a formal feeling… The nerves sit ceremonious like to… The stiff Heart questions—was it… And yesterday—or centuries before? The feet, mechanical, go round
425 Good Morning—Midnight— I’m coming Home— Day—got tired of Me— How could I—of Him?
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—
