#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
Death sets a thing significant The eye had hurried by, Except a perished creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little workmanships
138 Pigmy seraphs—gone astray— Velvet people from Vevay— Balles from some lost summer day— Bees exclusive Coterie—
104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.
404 How many Flowers fail in Wood— Or perish from the Hill— Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful—
XLII SURGEONS must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,—Life!
909 I make His Crescent fill or lack— His Nature is at Full Or Quarter—as I signify— His Tides—do I control—
261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to cha… Passive—as Granite—laps My Music…
Dying at my music! Bubble! Bubble! Hold me till the Octave’s run! Quick! Burst the Windows! Ritardando!
448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense
370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—
Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,
166 I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!
On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot - An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General thought - How red the Fire rocks below -
440 ’Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar—
There comes a warning like a spy A shorter breath of Day A stealing that is not a stealth And Summers are away
