#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
‘Faith’ is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see’— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
September’s Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros… And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming -
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could… Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions—
72 Glowing is her Bonnet, Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak.
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
865 He outstripped Time with but a Bo… He outstripped Stars and Sun And then, unjaded, challenged God In presence of the Throne.
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.
A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,
