#AmericanWriters
126 To fight aloud, is very brave— But gallanter, I know Who charge within the bosom The Cavalry of Woe—
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
914 I cannot be ashamed Because I cannot see The love you offer— Magnitude
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
