#AmericanWriters
306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—
716 The Day undressed—Herself— Her Garter—was of Gold— Her Petticoat—of Purple plain— Her Dimities—as old
LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just
263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—
832 Soto! Explore thyself! Therein thyself shalt find The “Undiscovered Continent”— No Settler had the Mind.
Two butterflies went out at noon And waltzed above a stream, Then stepped straight through the… And rested on a beam; And then together bore away
628 They called me to the Window, for “ ’Twas Sunset”—Some one said— I only saw a Sapphire Farm— And just a Single Herd—
364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—
Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!
443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me—
To see her is a Picture— To hear her is a Tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction—
574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —
944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn
127 “Houses”—so the Wise Men tell me— “Mansions”! Mansions must be warm… Mansions cannot let the tears in, Mansions must exclude the storm!
The Work of Her that went, The Toil of Fellows done - In Ovens green our Mother bakes, By Fires of the Sun.