#AmericanWriters
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.
Rearrange a “Wife’s” Affection! When they dislocate my Brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit, in thy Fastness…
Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day
316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
