#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
314 Nature—sometimes sears a Sapling— Sometimes—scalps a Tree— Her Green People recollect it When they do not die—
649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
The Snow that never drifts - The transient, fragrant snow That comes a single time a Year Is softly driving now - So thorough in the Tree
665 Dropped into the Ether Acre— Wearing the Sod Gown— Bonnet of Everlasting Laces— Brooch—frozen on—
782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—
624 Forever—it composed of Nows— ’Tis not a different time— Except for Infiniteness— And Latitude of Home—
Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
586 We talked as Girls do— Fond, and late— We speculated fair, on every subje… Of ours, none affair—
564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?
242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—
870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
