#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.
649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday
Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology
19 A sepal, petal, and a thorn Upon a common summer’s morn— A flask of Dew—A Bee or two— A Breeze—a caper in the trees—
787 Such is the Force of Happiness— The Least—can lift a Ton Assisted by its stimulus— Who Misery—sustain—
862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.
735 Upon Concluded Lives There’s nothing cooler falls— Than Life’s sweet Calculations— The mixing Bells and Palls—
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
LVI Faith is a fine invention For gentlemen who see; But microscopes are prudent In an emergency!
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—
49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!
