#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light
135 Water, is taught by thirst. Land—by the Oceans passed. Transport—by throe— Peace—by its battles told—
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—
173 A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun!
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”
704 672 No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
447 Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?
I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
