407
If What we could—were what we wou
Criterion—be small—
It is the Ultimate of Talk—
The Impotence to Tell—

925
Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni
Lightning—lets away
Power to perceive His Process
With Vitality.

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us—don’t te
They’d banish—you know!
How dreary to be somebody!

496
As far from pity, as complaint—
As cool to speech—as stone—
As numb to Revelation
As if my Trade were Bone—

29
If those I loved were lost
The Crier’s voice would tell me—
If those I loved were found
The bells of Ghent would ring—

427
I'll clutch — and clutch —
Next — One — Might be the golden
Could take it —
Diamonds — Wait —

“Unto Me?” I do not know you’—
Where may be your House?
“I am Jesus’—Late of Judea’—
Now’—of Paradise"'—
Wagons’—have you’—to convey me?

793
Grief is a Mouse—
And chooses Wainscot in the Breas
For His Shy House—
And baffles quest—

576
I prayed, at first, a little Girl
Because they told me to—
But stopped, when qualified to gue
How prayer would feel—to me—

199
I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that—
That other state—
I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now—
It’s safer so—