#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.
XXXVII For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—
THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—
62 “Sown in dishonor”! Ah! Indeed! May this “dishonor” be? If I were half so fine myself
451 The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ’Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood—
677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—
286 That after Horror — that ’twas us… That passed the mouldering Pier — Just as the Granite Crumb let go… Our Savior, by a Hair —
XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,
12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.
70 “Arcturus” is his other name— I’d rather call him “Star.” It’s very mean of Science To go and interfere!
315 He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Keys Before they drop full Music on— He stuns you by degrees—
347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—
819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy
