#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—
837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds
I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—
515 No Crowd that has occurred Exhibit—I suppose That General Attendance That Resurrection—does—
502 At least—to pray—is left—is left— Oh Jesus—in the Air— I know not which thy chamber is— I’m knocking—everywhere—
It dropped so low—in my Regard— I heard it hit the Ground— And go to pieces on the Stones At bottom of my Mind— Yet blamed the Fate that flung it…
LXXIII I ’LL tell you how the sun rose,— A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran.
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility
463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
