#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour
408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
LXIII Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair.
153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”
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
434 To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear,
I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was la… In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed…
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…
To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise
773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—
CXI A DOOR just opened on a street— I, lost, was passing by— An instant’s width of warmth discl… And wealth, and company.
A toad can die of light! Death is the common right Of toads and men,— Of earl and midge The privilege.
To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar—
