#AmericanWriters
825 An Hour is a Sea Between a few, and me— With them would Harbor be—
267 Did we disobey Him? Just one time! Charged us to forget Him— But we couldn’t learn!
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
If I can stop one heart from brea… I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching… Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin
My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
The Clover’s simple Fame Remembered of the Cow - Is better than enameled Realms Of notability. Renown perceives itself
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.
380 There is a flower that Bees prefe… And Butterflies—desire— To gain the Purple Democrat The Humming Bird—aspire—
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
