#AmericanWriters
850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I
295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
776 The Color of a Queen, is this— The Color of a Sun At setting—this and Amber— Beryl—and this, at Noon—
855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—
737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—
225 Jesus! thy Crucifix Enable thee to guess The smaller size! Jesus! thy second face
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,