#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—
538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—
367 Over and over, like a Tune— The Recollection plays— Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise—
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—
These—saw Visions— Latch them softly— These—held Dimples— Smooth them slow— This—addressed departing accents—
814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;