#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—
433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how
777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—
51 I often passed the village When going home from school— And wondered what they did there— And why it was so still—
682 ‘Twould ease—a Butterfly— Elate—a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither—thy capacity—
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—
424 Removed from Accident of Loss By Accident of Gain Befalling not my simple Days— Myself had just to earn—
218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!
It’s like the light,— A fashionless delight It’s like the bee,— A dateless melody. It’s like the woods,
590 Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s… Widths out of the Sun— And look—and shudder, and block yo… And deem to be alone
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
