#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance
777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
699 The Judge is like the Owl— I’ve heard my Father tell— And Owls do build in Oaks— So here’s an Amber Sill—
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—
861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…
284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
