#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—
588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—
The heart asks pleasure first And then, excuse from pain– And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep;
853 When One has given up One’s life The parting with the rest Feels easy, as when Day lets go Entirely the West
381 A Secret told— Ceases to be a Secret—then— A Secret—kept— That—can appal but One—
41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses
452 The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch—
240 Ah, Moon—and Star! You are very far— But were no one Farther than you—
1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—
733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—
Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—
866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—
There cam a Wind like a Bugle - It quivered through the Grass And a Green Chill upon the Heat So ominous did pass We barred the Windows and the Doo…
