#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do
707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—
Warm in her Hand these accents li… While faithful and afar The Grace so awkward for her sake Its fond subjection wear -
682 ‘Twould ease—a Butterfly— Elate—a Bee— Thou’rt neither— Neither—thy capacity—
902 The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well—
346 Not probable—The barest Chance— A smile too few—a word too much And far from Heaven as the Rest— The Soul so close on Paradise—
876 It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed ’twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul.
940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—
859 A Doubt if it be Us Assists the staggering Mind In an extremer Anguish Until it footing find.
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…
913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end
430 It would never be Common—more—I s… Difference—had begun— Many a bitterness—had been— But that old sort—was done—
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
399 A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached—
