#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—
413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–
237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—
947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
XXV BELSHAZZAR had a letter,— He never had but one; Belshazzar’s correspondent Concluded and begun
260 Read—Sweet—how others—strove— Till we—are stouter— What they—renounced— Till we—are less afraid—