#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture
776 The Color of a Queen, is this— The Color of a Sun At setting—this and Amber— Beryl—and this, at Noon—
885 Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain In plenty may be seen, A Pink and Pulpy multitude The tepid Ground upon.
A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky— A little purple—slipped between—
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
691 Would you like summer? Taste of o… Spices? Buy here! Ill! We have berries, for the par… Weary! Furloughs of down!
978 It bloomed and dropt, a Single No… The Flower—distinct and Red— I, passing, thought another Noon Another in its stead
166 I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!
717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—
497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?
