#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
69 Low at my problem bending, Another problem comes— Larger than mine—Serener— Involving statelier sums.
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—
120 If this is “fading” Oh let me immediately “fade”! If this is “dying” Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
XXXIII DARE you see a soul at the white… Then crouch within the door. Red is the fire’s common tint; But when the vivid ore
21 We lose—because we win— Gamblers—recollecting which Toss their dice again!
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!
888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—
395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity
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
The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,
984 ’Tis Anguish grander than Delight ’Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again.
