#AmericanWriters
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee - When a Lover is an Owner Different is he - What he begged is then the Beggar…
763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—
296 One Year ago—jots what? God—spell the word! I—can’t— Was’t Grace? Not that— Was’t Glory? That—will do—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—
204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
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…
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—