#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—
715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—
LVIII PORTRAITS are to daily faces As an evening west To a fine, pedantic sunshine In a satin vest.
388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen
How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…
XXI 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.
Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -
197 Morning—is the place for Dew— Corn—is made at Noon— After dinner light—for flowers— Dukes—for Setting Sun!
I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…
471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—
239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!
A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush
Proud of my broken heart, since th… Proud of the pain, I did not feel… Proud of my night, since thou, wit… Not to partake thy passion, –my hu… Thou can’st not boast, like Jesus…
455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith
117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.
