#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…
223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—
112 Where bells no more affright the m… Where scrabble never comes— Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to keep their rooms—
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
I am afraid to own a Body - I am afraid to own a Soul - Profound– precarious Property – Possession, not optional - Double Estate - entailed at plea…
84 Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a “Diver”— Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest.
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…
XIV SOME things that fly there be,— Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy. Some things that stay there be,—
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
