#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
63 If pain for peace prepares Lo, what “Augustan” years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise,
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.
How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?
351 I felt my life with both my hands To see if it was there— I held my spirit to the Glass, To prove it possibler—
Proud of my broken heart, since th… Proud of the pain, I did not feel… Proud of my night, since thou, wit… Not to partake thy passion, –my hu… Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus…
587 Empty my Heart, of Thee— Its single Artery— Begin, and leave Thee out— Simply Extinction’s Date—
The Hills in Purple syllables The Day’s Adventures tell To little Groups of Continents Just going Home from School.
I SHOULD have been too glad, I… Too lifted for the scant degree Of life’s penurious round; My little circuit would have shame… This new circumference, have blame…
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep That makes no show for dawn By strech of limb or stir of lid,— An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?
728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
