#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different
6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.
972 Unfulfilled to Observation— Incomplete—to Eye— But to Faith—a Revolution In Locality—
There’s been a death in the opposi… As lately as to-day. I know it by the numb look Such houses have alway. The neighbors rustle in and out,
661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me
836 Truth—is as old as God— His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity—
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
Let me not mar that perfect Dream By an Auroral stain But so adjust my daily Night That it will come again. Not when we know, the Power accos…
THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—
LXXXVI A LADY red upon the hill Her annual secret keeps; A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps!
560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—