#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
164 Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree— She looks down just as often And just as tenderly
188 Make me a picture of the sun— So I can hang it in my room— And make believe I’m getting warm When others call it “Day”!
XLIX WE outgrow love like other things And put it in the drawer, Till it an antique fashion shows Like costumes grandsires wore.
119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!
355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
793 Grief is a Mouse— And chooses Wainscot in the Breas… For His Shy House— And baffles quest—
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!
960 As plan for Noon and plan for Nig… So differ Life and Death In positive Prospective— The Foot upon the Earth
A little Dog that wags his tail And knows no other joy Of such a little Dog am I Reminded by a Boy Who gambols all the living Day
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—
Volcanoes be in Sicily And South America I judge from my Geography - Volcanos nearer here A Lava step at any time
Not any sunny tone From any fervent zone Find entrance there - Better a grave of Balm Toward human nature’s home -
When a Lover is a Beggar Abject is his Knee - When a Lover is an Owner Different is he - What he begged is then the Beggar…
