#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
“Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn, A mighty look runs round the Worl…
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
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.
246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
By homely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing - ‘Nothing’ is the force That renovates the World -
If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,
546 To fill a Gap Insert the Thing that caused it— Block it up With Other—and 'twill yawn the mo…
332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—
777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time
