#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—
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,
535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—
XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.
How firm Eternity must look To crumbling men like me The only Adamant Estate In all Identity - How mighty to the insecure
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”!
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
310 Give little Anguish— Lives will fret— Give Avalanches— And they’ll slant—
The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…
849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate
CXI A DOOR just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company.
22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—
949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
682 ‘Twould ease—a Butterfly— Elate—a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither—thy capacity—
