#AmericanWriters
154 Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels—lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown.
LXII A DROP fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh.
I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since
135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—
September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros… And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming -
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go
603 He found my Being—set it up— Adjusted it to place— Then carved his name—upon it— And bade it to the East
323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—
“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
799 Despair’s advantage is achieved By suffering—Despair— To be assisted of Reverse One must Reverse have bore—
