#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—
980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.
The Soul unto itself Is an imperial friend— Or the most agonizing Spy— An Enemy—could send— Secure against its own—
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep
951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—
886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.
682 ‘Twould ease—a Butterfly— Elate—a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither—thy capacity—
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—
827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—
The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
64 Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair… Some Vision of the World Cashmer… I confidently see! Or else a Peacock’s purple Train
573 The Test of Love—is Death— Our Lord—"so loved"—it saith— What Largest Lover—hath Another—doth—
731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—
