#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
CXXVIII 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.
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
VII WITHIN my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered through the village…
651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing
636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—
A door just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company. The door as sudden shut, and I,
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
LX The grass so little has to do,— A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain,
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
