#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
XIII THE soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
Glory is that bright tragic thing That for an instant Means Dominion - Warms some poor name That never felt the Sun,
339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,
300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…
A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard— Till morning touching mountain—
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!
Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.
784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—
233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho’ Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil!
778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—
