#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
708 I sometimes drop it, for a Quick— The Thought to be alive— Anonymous Delight to know— And Madder—to conceive—
464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me
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?
532 I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen— Some Polar Expiation—An Omen in… Of Death’s tremendous nearness—
I heard a fly buzz when I died; The stillness round my form Was like the stillness in the air Between the heaves of storm. The eyes beside had wrung them dry…
783 The Birds begun at Four o’clock— Their period for Dawn— A Music numerous as space— But neighboring as Noon—
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
582 Inconceivably solemn! Things go gay Pierce—by the very Press Of Imagery—
