#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
Tell as a Marksman - were forgot… Tell - this Day endures Ruddy as that coeval Apple The Tradition bears - Fresh as Mankind that humble stor…
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,
161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
358 If any sink, assure that this, now… Failed like Themselves—and consci… Grew by the Fact, and not the Und… How Weakness passed—or Force—aros…
147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!
568 We learned the Whole of Love— The Alphabet—the Words— A Chapter—then the mighty Book— Then—Revelation closed—
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—
847 Finite’—to fail, but infinite to… For the one ship that struts the s… Many’s the gallant’—overwhelmed C… Nodding in Navies nevermore’—
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
