#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
I DIED for beauty, but was scarc… Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
504 You know that Portrait in the Moo… So tell me who ’tis like— The very Brow—the stooping eyes— A fog for—Say—Whose Sake?
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
730 Defrauded I a Butterfly— The lawful Heir—for Thee—
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
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—
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—
412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—
671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—
685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—
