#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told
474 They put Us far apart— As separate as Sea And Her unsown Peninsula— We signified “These see”—
One need not be a chamber to be ha… One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place. Far safer, of a midnight meeting
348 I would not paint—a picture— I’d rather be the One It’s bright impossibility To dwell—delicious—on—
XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
816 A Death blow is a Life blow to S… Who till they died, did not alive… Who had they lived, had died but w… They died, Vitality begun.
724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—
939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—
331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
544 The Martyr Poets—did not tell— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate—encourage Some—
163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—