#AmericanWriters
199 I’m “wife”—I’ve finished that— That other state— I’m Czar—I’m “Woman” now— It’s safer so—
If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have
607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold—
453 Love—thou art high— I cannot climb thee— But, were it Two— Who know but we—
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading—treading—till it see… That Sense was breaking through— And when they all were seated,
It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory! From marshallings as simple
LXXXV A LIGHT exists in spring Not present on the year At any other period. When March is scarcely here
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!
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.
LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.
541 Some such Butterfly be seen On Brazilian Pampas— Just at noon—no later—Sweet— Then—the License closes—
The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied
16 I would distil a cup, And bear to all my friends, Drinking to her no more astir, By beck, or burn, or moor!