#AmericanWriters
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;
681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—
We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!