#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
105 To hang our head—ostensibly— And subsequent, to find That such was not the posture Of our immortal mind—
‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us
930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed
718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—
805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…
590 Did you ever stand in a Cavern’s… Widths out of the Sun— And look—and shudder, and block yo… And deem to be alone
Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.
31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!
This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…
LXXXVIII HEAVEN is what I cannot reach! The apple on the tree, Provided it do hopeless hang, That “heaven” is, to me.
17 Baffled for just a day or two— Embarrassed—not afraid— Encounter in my garden An unexpected Maid.
203 He forgot—and I—remembered— ’Twas an everyday affair— Long ago as Christ and Peter— “Warmed them” at the “Temple fire…
