#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.
Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—
My life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…
223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—
767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—
912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple