#AmericanWriters
Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman
’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!
775 If Blame be my side’—forfeit Me’— But doom me not to forfeit Thee’— To forfeit Thee? The very name Is sentence from Belief’—and Hous…
617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—
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
LV I envy seas whereon he rides, I envy spokes of wheels Of chariots that him convey, I envy speechless hills
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—
559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
