#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
439 Undue Significance a starving man… To Food— Far off—He sighs—and therefore—Ho… And therefore—Good—
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—
490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?
555 Trust in the Unexpected— By this—was William Kidd Persuaded of the Buried Gold— As One had testified—
655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—
562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
656 The name—of it—is “Autumn”— The hue—of it—is Blood— An Artery—upon the Hill— A Vein—along the Road—
539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
