#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
Her final summer was it, And yet we guessed it not; If tenderer industriousness Pervaded her, we thought A further force of life
She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
807 Expectation—is Contentment— Gain—Satiety— But Satiety—Conviction Of Necessity
384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
222 When Katie walks, this simple pai… When Katie runs unwearied they fo… When Katie kneels, their loving h… Ah! Katie! Smile at Fortune, wit…