#AmericanWriters
801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold
828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,
887 We outgrow love, like other things And put it in the Drawer— Till it an Antique fashion shows— Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—
109 By a flower—By a letter— By a nimble love— If I weld the Rivet faster— Final fast—above—
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
MINE enemy is growing old, I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge, Let him be quick, the viand flits,