#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—
88 As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear— As for the lost we grapple Tho’ all the rest are 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—
A chilly Peace infests the Grass The Sun respectful lies - Not any Trance of industry These shadows scrutinize - Whose Allies go no more astray
“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear
627 The Tint I cannot take—is best— The Color too remote That I could show it in Bazaar— A Guinea at a sight—
275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—
997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.
810 Her Grace is all she has— And that, so least displays— One Art to recognize, must be, Another Art, to praise.
514 Her smile was shaped like other sm… The Dimples ran along— And still it hurt you, as some Bi… Did hoist herself, to sing,
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -
God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…
