#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—
348 I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though—
344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—
970 Color — Caste — Denomination — These — are Time's Affair — Death's diviner Classifying Does not know they are —
247 What would I give to see his face… I’d give—I’d give my life—of cour… But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think!
124 In lands I never saw—they say Immortal Alps look down— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town—
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—
Rearrange a “Wife’s” Affection! When they dislocate my Brain! Amputate my freckled Bosom! Make me bearded like a man! Blush, my spirit, in thy Fastness…
516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases
596 When I was small, a Woman died— Today—her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac— His face all Victory
514 Her smile was shaped like other sm… The Dimples ran along— And still it hurt you, as some Bi… Did hoist herself, to sing,
Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,
