#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low,— He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky. The leaves unhooked themselves fro…
726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
129 Cocoon above! Cocoon below! Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so What all the world suspect? An hour, and gay on every tree
99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.
152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!
Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend
933 Two Travellers perishing in Snow The Forests as they froze Together heard them strengthening Each other with the words
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
