#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
55 By Chivalries as tiny, A Blossom, or a Book, The seeds of smiles are planted— Which blossom in the dark.
608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
253 You see I cannot see—your lifetim… I must guess— How many times it ache for me—toda… How many times for my far sake
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
102 Great Caesar! Condescend The Daisy, to receive, Gathered by Cato’s Daughter, With your majestic leave!
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—
