#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #XIXCentury
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
631 Ourselves were wed one summer—dear… Your Vision—was in June— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied—too—of mine—
A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
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.
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—
212 Least Rivers—docile to some sea. My Caspian—thee.
To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
