#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,
387 The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know— Each Other’s Convert— Though the Faith accommodate but…
It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh
702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—
Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
181 I lost a World - the other day! Has Anybody found? You’ll know it by the Row of Star… Around its forehead bound.
623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—
406 Some’—Work for Immortality’— The Chiefer part, for Time’— He’—Compensates’—immediately’— The former’—Checks’—on Fame’—
369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—
989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.
20 Distrustful of the Gentian— And just to turn away, The fluttering of her fringes Child my perfidy—
779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—
