Not Heaving from My Ribb’d Breast Only
Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances
When I Heard at the Close of the Day
Are You the New Person Drawn Toward Me?
Roots and Leaves Themselves Alone
Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes
I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing
This Moment Yearning and Thoughtful
I Hear It Was Charged Against Me
When I Peruse the Conquer’d Fame
Here the Frailest Leaves of Me
What Think You I Take My Pen in Hand?
O You Whom I Often and Silently Come