#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any coursers like a page Of prancing poetry. This traverse may the poorest take
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
881 I’ve none to tell me to but Thee So when Thou failest, nobody. It was a little tie— It just held Two, nor those it he…
822 This Consciousness that is aware Of Neighbors and the Sun Will be the one aware of Death And that itself alone
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
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.
642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —
643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
526 To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o’clock to heaven—they fle…
175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—
474 They put Us far apart— As separate as Sea And Her unsown Peninsula— We signified “These see”—
18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.
