#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause—
XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.
1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—
The spry Arms of the Wind If I could crawl between I have an errand imminent To an adjoining Zone - I should not care to stop
672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
The Grass so little has to do— A Sphere of simple Green— With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain— And stir all day to pretty Tunes
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
Safe in their alabaster chambers, Untouched by morning and untouched… Sleep the meek members of the resu… Rafter of satin, and roof of stone… Light laughs the breeze in her cas…
968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—
I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
