#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—
50 I haven’t told my garden yet— Lest that should conquer me. I haven’t quite the strength now To break it to the Bee—
991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—
185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.
A Coffin—is a small Domain, Yet able to contain A Citizen of Paradise In it diminished Plane. A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,
111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—
604 Unto my Books—so good to turn— Far ends of tired Days— It half endears the Abstinence— And Pain—is missed—in Praise—
993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society
385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—
LIX I TOOK my power in my hand And went against the world; ’T was not so much as David had, But I was twice as bold.
XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy
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,
221 It can’t be “Summer”! That—got through! It’s early—yet—for “Spring”! There’s that long town of White—t…
