#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
548 Death is potential to that Man Who dies—and to his friend— Beyond that—unconspicuous To Anyone but God—
445 ’Twas just this time, last year,… I know I heard the Corn, When I was carried by the Farms— It had the Tassels on—
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—
322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said
713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—
771 None can experience sting Who Bounty—have not known— The fact of Famine—could not be Except for Fact of Corn—
167 To learn the Transport by the Pai… As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst—suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run!
131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
682 ‘Twould ease—a Butterfly— Elate—a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither—thy capacity—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
