#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
319 Of Bronze—and Blaze— The North—tonight— So adequate—it forms— So preconcerted with itself—
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
XLVII HEART, we will forget him! You and I, to—night! You may forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen
695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—
802 Time feels so vast that were it no… For an Eternity— I fear me this Circumference Engross my Finity—
923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—
722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.
