#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
Not with a club, the Heart is bro… Nor with a stone; A whip, so small you could not see… I’ve known To lash the magic creature
89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—
Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
Not Sickness stains the Brave, Nor any Dart, Nor Doubt of Scene to come, But an adjourning Heart -
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
LXXIX I YEARS had been from home, And now, before the door, I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead
A light exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here A color stands abroad
922 Those who have been in the Grave… Those who begin Today— Equally perish from our Practise— Death is the other way—
545 ’Tis One by One—the Father count… And then a Tract between Set Cypherless—to teach the Eye The Value of its Ten—
Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -
