#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill
No rack can torture me, My soul’s at liberty Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw,
662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—
II OUR share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning.
918 Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may… Regard a Nun—
547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—
Whose Pink career may have a clos… Portentous as our own, who knows? To imitate these Neighbors fleet In awe and innocence, were meet.
Ended, ere it begun - The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Co… The Story, unrevealed - Had it been mine, to print!
625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time
284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…
556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—
