#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given
120 If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—
488 Myself was formed’—a Carpenter’— An unpretending time My Plane’—and I, together wrought Before a Builder came’—
5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—
851 When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face— When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
401 What Soft—Cherubic Creatures— These Gentlewomen are— One would as soon assault a Plush… Or violate a Star—
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
188 Make me a picture of the sun— So I can hang it in my room— And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”!
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
98 One dignity delays for all— One mitred Afternoon— None can avoid this purple— None evade this Crown!
