#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.
277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—
856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.
The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back
The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.
405 It might be lonelier Without the Loneliness— I’m so accustomed to my Fate— Perhaps the Other—Peace—
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—
425 Good Morning—Midnight— I’m coming Home— Day—got tired of Me— How could I—of Him?
867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—
LXVII A DEED knocks first at thought, And then it knocks at will. That is the manufacturing spot, And will at home and well.
689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power
530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—
Ample make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight,
833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament
