#AmericanWriters
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
Come slowly, Eden Lips unused to thee. Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee,
Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude
388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…
174 At last, to be identified! At last, the lamps upon thy side The rest of Life to see! Past Midnight! Past the Morning…
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society