#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.
641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—
28 So has a Daisy vanished From the fields today— So tiptoed many a slipper To Paradise away—
No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken To that dull Girl? Trivial a Word—just—
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—
I found the phrase to every though… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun To races nurtured in the dark;—
845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
155 The Murmur of a Bee A Witchcraft—yieldeth me— If any ask me why— ’Twere easier to die—
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
