#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
557 She hideth Her the last— And is the first, to rise— Her Night doth hardly recompense The Closing of Her eyes—
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
130 These are the days when Birds com… A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resu…
384 No Rack can torture me— My Soul—at Liberty— Behind this mortal Bone There knits a bolder One—
Spring comes on the World - I sight the Aprils - Hueless to me until thou come As, till the Bee Blossoms stand negative,
871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—
312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
I years had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
XXVII I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you—Nobody—too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you k…
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—
