#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
838 Impossibility, like Wine Exhilarates the Man Who tastes it; Possibility Is flavorless—Combine
100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold
157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—
68 Ambition cannot find him. Affection doesn’t know How many leagues of nowhere Lie between them now.
911 Too little way the House must lie From every Human Heart That holds in undisputed Lease A white inhabitant—
414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony
A toad can die of light! Death is the common right Of toads and men,— Of earl and midge The privilege.
469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—
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,
675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws
It dropped so low in my regard I heard it hit the ground, And go to pieces on the stones At bottom of my mind; Yet blamed the fate that fractured…
842 Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! Better, to be found, If one care to, that is, The Fox fits the Hound—
687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—
565 One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds
They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…
