#AmericanWriters
843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.
577 If I may have it, when it’s dead, I’ll be contented—so— If just as soon as Breath is out It shall belong to me—
868 They ask but our Delight— The Darlings of the Soil And grant us all their Countenanc… For a penurious smile.
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
30 Adrift! A little boat adrift! And night is coming down! Will no one guide a little boat Unto the nearest town?
So proud she was to die It made us all ashamed That what we cherished, so unknown To her desire seemed. So satisfied to go
543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…