#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—
All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
XXX WE play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool.
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
512 The Soul has Bandaged moments— When too appalled to stir— She feels some ghastly Fright com… And stop to look at her—
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are here—
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
159 A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa…
