#AmericanWriters
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
311 It sifts from Leaden Sieves— It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road—
748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—
257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—
481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow
129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
901 Sweet, to have had them lost For news that they be saved— The nearer they departed Us The nearer they, restored,