#AmericanWriters
The Black Berry—wears a Thorn in… But no Man heard Him cry— He offers His Berry, just the sam… To Partridge—and to Boy— He sometimes holds upon the Fence…
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—
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—
I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
570 I could die—to know— ’Tis a trifling knowledge— News-Boys salute the Door— Carts—joggle by—
594 The Battle fought between the Sou… And No Man—is the One Of all the Battles prevalent— By far the Greater One—
Epigram THIS is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,— The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty.
Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—
XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—