#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
45 There’s something quieter than sle… Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast— And will not tell its name.
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
227 Teach Him – When He makes the na… Such an one – to say – On his babbling – Berry – lips – As should sound – to me –
171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
CXXXVI I STEPPED from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea.
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—
578 The Body grows without— The more convenient way— That if the Spirit—like to hide Its Temple stands, alway,
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—
