#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!
54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chan… The Bliss to cauterize—
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?
THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
367 Over and over, like a Tune— The Recollection plays— Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise—
753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…
