#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
29 If those I loved were lost The Crier’s voice would tell me— If those I loved were found The bells of Ghent would ring—
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—
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—
191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!
XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.
