#AmericanWriters
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—
729 Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One—
1034 His Bill an Auger is, His Head, a Cap and Frill. He laboreth at every Tree A Worm, His utmost Goal.
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—
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
688 “Speech”—is a prank of Parliament… “Tears”—is a trick of the nerve— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn't—always—move—
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—
55 By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted— Which blossom in the dark.
697 I could bring You Jewels—had I a… But You have enough—of those— I could bring You Odors from St.… Colors—from Vera Cruz—
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave