#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
604 Unto my Books—so good to turn— Far ends of tired Days— It half endears the Abstinence— And Pain—is missed—in Praise—
882 A Shade upon the mind there passe… As when on Noon A Cloud the mighty Sun encloses Remembering
Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—
313 I should have been too glad, I se… Too lifted—for the scant degree Of Life’s penurious Round— My little Circuit would have sham…
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasur… To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore… A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take,
631 Ourselves were wed one summer—dear… Your Vision—was in June— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied—too—of mine—
945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—
151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,
928 The Heart has narrow Banks It measures like the Sea In mighty—unremitting Bass And Blue Monotony
830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect
