#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -
844 Spring is the Period Express from God. Among the other seasons Himself abide,
264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—
904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—
576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—
These Fevered Days—to take them t… Where Waters cool around the moss… And shade is all that devastates t… Seems it sometimes this would be a…
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
III SOUL, wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost, indeed, But tens have won an all.
The butterfly obtains But little sympathy Though favorably mentioned In Entomology - Because he travels freely
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday
920 We can but follow to the Sun— As oft as He go down He leave Ourselves a Sphere behin… ’Tis mostly—following—
668 “Nature” is what we see— The Hill—the Afternoon— Squirrel—Eclipse—the Bumble bee— Nay—Nature is Heaven—
On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot - An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General thought - How red the Fire rocks below -
