#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
696 Their Height in Heaven comforts n… Their Glory—nought to me— ’Twas best imperfect—as it was— I’m finite—I can’t see—
After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,— Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace. Weeds triumphant ranged,
969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
Are Friends Delight or Pain? Could Bounty but remain Riches were good - But if they only stay Ampler to fly away
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—
