#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
477 No Man can compass a Despair— As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed—
325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
329 So glad we are—a Stranger’d deem ’Twas sorry, that we were— For where the Holiday should be There publishes a Tear—
168 If the foolish, call them “flowers… Need the wiser, tell? If the Savants “Classify” them It is just as well!
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
215 What is – “Paradise” – Who live there – Are they “Farmers” – Do they “hoe” –
Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine
Immured in Heaven! What a Cell! Let every Bondage be, Thou sweetest of the Universe, Like that which ravished thee!
The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars
567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—
32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—
209 With thee, in the Desert— With thee in the thirst— With thee in the Tamarind wood— Leopard breathes—at last!
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—