#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,
134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—
840 I cannot buy it—’tis not sold— There is no other in the World— Mine was the only one I was so happy I forgot
I started Early– Took my Dog – And visited the Sea - The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me - And Frigates - in the Upper Floo…
The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,
800 Two—were immortal twice— The privilege of few— Eternity—obtained—in Time— Reversed Divinity’—
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,
414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
335 ’Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ’Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door—
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
