#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
XLVIII THOUGH I get home how late, how… So I get home, ’t will compensate… Better will be the ecstasy That they have done expecting me,
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—
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—
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
610 You’ll find—it when you try to die… The Easier to let go— For recollecting such as went— You could not spare—you know.
992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—
To my quick ear the leaves conferr… The bushes they were bells; I could not find a privacy From Nature’s sentinels. In cave if I presumed to hide,
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
