#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,
176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?
282 How noteless Men, and Pleiads, st… Until a sudden sky Reveals the fact that One is rapt Forever from the Eye—
145 This heart that broke so long— These feet that never flagged— This faith that watched for star i… Give gently to the dead—
621 I asked no other thing— No other—was denied— I offered Being—for it— The Mighty Merchant sneered—
A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in
1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.
26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.
627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—
Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion
XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;
417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?
104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.
