#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars –
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
138 Pigmy seraphs—gone astray— Velvet people from Vevay— Balles from some lost summer day— Bees exclusive Coterie—
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
749 All but Death, can be Adjusted— Dynasties repaired— Systems—settled in their Sockets— Citadels—dissolved—
14 One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me.
My life closed twice before its cl… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
