#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
XXVII I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you k…
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me Had I but further scanned
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
963 A nearness to Tremendousness— An Agony procures— Affliction ranges Boundlessness— Vicinity to Laws
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
648 Promise This—When You be Dying— Some shall summon Me— Mine belong Your latest Sighing— Mine—to Belt Your Eye—
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.
