#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
633 When Bells stop ringing—Church—be… The Positive—of Bells— When Cogs—stop—that's Circumferen… The Ultimate—of Wheels.
I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,
932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude
10 My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly
251 Over the fence— Strawberries—grow— Over the fence— I could climb—if I tried, I know—
Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.
The Snow that never drifts - The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving now - So thorough in the Tree
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
