#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
209 With thee, in the Desert— With thee in the thirst— With thee in the Tamarind wood— Leopard breathes—at last!
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,
614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
92 My friend must be a Bird’— Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies!
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told
The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,
CXII I FELT a funeral in my brain, And mourners, to and fro, Kept treading, treading, till it s… That sense was breaking through.
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
This was a Poet —It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — And Attar so immense From the familiar species
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.
