#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—
463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy
57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be
965 Denial—is the only fact Perceived by the Denied— Whose Will—a numb significance— The Day the Heaven died—
A still – Volcano – Life – That flickered in the night – When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight – A quiet – Earthquake Style –
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—
143 For every Bird a Nest— Wherefore in timid quest Some little Wren goes seeking rou… Wherefore when boughs are free—
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
