#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
407 If What we could—were what we wou… Criterion—be small— It is the Ultimate of Talk— The Impotence to Tell—
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—
Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
832 Soto! Explore thyself! Therein thyself shalt find The “Undiscovered Continent”— No Settler had the Mind.
990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
59 A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard—
75 She died at play, Gambolled away Her lease of spotted hours, Then sank as gaily as a Turn
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
821 Away from Home are some and I— An Emigrant to be In a Metropolis of Homes Is easy, possibly—
751 My Worthiness is all my Doubt— His Merit—all my fear— Contrasting which, my quality Do lowlier—appear—
