#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
I went to heaven,— ‘T was a small town, Lit with a ruby, Lathed with down. Stiller than the fields
An everywhere of silver, With ropes of sand To keep it from effacing The track called land.
203 He forgot—and I—remembered— ’Twas an everyday affair— Long ago as Christ and Peter— “Warmed them” at the “Temple fire…
XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
684 Best Gains—must have the Losses’… To constitute them—Gains—
XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.
This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed
Had we our senses But perhaps ’tis well they’re not… So intimate with Madness He’s liable with them Had we the eyes without our Head—
957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
204 I’ll tell you how the Sun rose— A Ribbon at a time— The Steeples swam in Amethyst— The news, like Squirrels, ran—
46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.
285 The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun… Because I grow—where Robins do— But, were I Cuckoo born— I’d swear by him—
Witchcraft has not a Pedigree ’Tis early as our Breath And mourners meet it going out The moment of our death—
