#AmericanWriters
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way — And so I deck, a little, If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.
452 The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch—
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched… Sleep the meek members of the resu… Rafter of satin, and roof of stone… Light laughs the breeze in her cas…
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
725 Where Thou art—that—is Home— Cashmere—or Calvary—the same— Degree—or Shame— I scarce esteem Location’s Name—