#AmericanWriters
A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came
205 I should not dare to leave my frie… Because—because if he should die While I was gone—and I—too late— Should reach the Heart that wante…
If Nature smiles - the Mother mu… I’m sure, at many a whim Of Her eccentric Family - Is She so much to blame?
96 Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here… Pray lead me to his bed! I came to build the Bird’s nest, And sow the Early seed—
169 In Ebon Box, when years have flow… To reverently peer, Wiping away the velvet dust Summers have sprinkled there!
He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—
224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—
604 Unto my Books—so good to turn— Far ends of tired Days— It half endears the Abstinence— And Pain—is missed—in Praise—
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—
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.
CXI A DOOR just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company.
584 It ceased to hurt me, though so sl… I could not feel the Anguish go— But only knew by looking back— That something—had benumbed the T…
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…