I had no monarch in my life, and cannot rule myself; and when I try to organize, my little force explodes and leaves me bare and charred.
I hope you’re very careful working, eating and drinking when the heat is so great – there are temptations there which at home you are free from – beware the juicy fruits, and the cooling ades, and cordials, and do not eat ice-cream, it is so very dangerous.
To fight aloud is very brave, but gallanter, I know, who charge within the bosom, the Cavalry of Woe.
Nature is what we know – Yet have not art to say – So impotent our wisdom is To her simplicity.
God, keep me from what they call ‘households,’
Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? Not death. For who is he?
Heaven is so far of the mind that were the mind dissolved – the site of it by architect could not again be proved.
I like a look of Agony, because I know it’s true – men do not sham Convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe.
The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
Unto a broken heart No other one may go Without the high prerogative Itself hath suffered too.
God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me.
Till the first friend dies, we think our ecstasy impersonal, but then discover that he was the cup from which we drank it, itself as yet unknown.
My only sketch, profile, of Heaven is a large blue sky, and larger than the biggest I have seen in June – and in it are my friends – every one of them.
The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.
I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.
I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: “‘T will keep.” I woke and chid my honest fingers, – The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.
These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.
It is finished, is never said of us.
To die before one fears to die may be a boon.
My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun – In Corners – till a Day The Owner passed – identified – And carried Me away -.