#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?
354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—
Part One: Life LII VICTORY comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost
Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight,
892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age
Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology
Tell all the truth but tell it sla… Success in circuit lies, Too bright for our infirm delight The truth’s superb surprise; As lightning to the children eased
603 He found my Being—set it up— Adjusted it to place— Then carved his name—upon it— And bade it to the East
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…
925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
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,
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
379 Rehearsal to Ourselves Of a Withdrawn Delight— Affords a Bliss like Murder— Omnipotent—Acute—
