#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe
’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away! ’Twas such a greedy, greedy wave
468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—
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,
33 If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not. And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot.
483 A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe— And golden hang—while farther up— The Maker’s Ladders stop—
Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What fortitude the Soul contains
855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain
663 Again—his voice is at the door— I feel the old Degree— I hear him ask the servant For such an one—as me—
He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,
97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.
390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?
651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing