#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
759 He fought like those Who’ve nough… Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use—
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,
365 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
294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day
462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed
