#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
839 Always Mine! No more Vacation! Term of Light this Day begun! Failless as the fair rotation
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
230 We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing… ’Tisn’t all Hock—with us— Life has its Ale— But it’s many a lay of the Dim Bu…
454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die
252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy
229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near
804 No Notice gave She, but a Change… No Message, but a Sigh— For Whom, the Time did not suffic… That She should specify.
DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—
Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself— Tastes Death—the first—to hand th…
