#Americans #Women #XIXCentury
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plant… At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot As if it tarried always
780 The Truth—is stirless— Other force—may be presumed to mov… This—then—is best for confidence— When oldest Cedars swerve—
612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity
826 Love reckons by itself—alone— “As large as I”—relate the Sun To One who never felt it blaze— Itself is all the like it has—
220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?
Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,
206 The Flower must not blame the Bee… That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay—
428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—
456 So well that I can live without— I love thee—then How well is that… As well as Jesus? Prove it me
LVII EXCEPT the heaven had come so n… So seemed to choose my door, The distance would not haunt me so… I had not hoped before.
That only lasts an hour How much '— how little '— is Within our power
Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—
138 Pigmy seraphs—gone astray— Velvet people from Vevay— Balles from some lost summer day— Bees exclusive Coterie—
After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—
My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks