#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
770 I lived on Dread— To Those who know The Stimulus there is In Danger—Other impetus
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;
XLI THE soul unto itself Is an imperial friend,— Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.
444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—
LXI EACH life converges to some cent… Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal,
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
