#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…
Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -
XXXII HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the wor… And never stops at all,
378 I saw no Way—The Heavens were st… I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemisphere… I touched the Universe—
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,
801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away
Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise. Three times, 't is said, a sinking… Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
35 Nobody knows this little Rose— It might a pilgrim be Did I not take it from the ways And lift it up to thee.
XCIX THERE is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry.
180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came
