#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—
474 They put Us far apart— As separate as Sea And Her unsown Peninsula— We signified “These see”—
141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.
698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…
XI MUCH madness is divinest sense To a discerning eye; Much sense the starkest madness. ’T is the majority
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
MINE enemy is growing old, I have at last revenge. The palate of the hate departs; If any would avenge, Let him be quick, the viand flits,
Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.
