#AmericanWriters
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is di… To venerable Birds Whose Corporation Coat
573 The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth—
383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
If Nature smiles - the Mother mu… I’m sure, at many a whim Of Her eccentric Family - Is She so much to blame?
The spry Arms of the Wind If I could crawl between I have an errand imminent To an adjoining Zone - I should not care to stop
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—