#AmericanWriters
486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
XXV Wild nights—Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury!
LXXXIII This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond — Invisible, as Music — But positive, as Sound —
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm
330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
340 Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
