He's just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently, He'd wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean.

The least flower, with brimming cup, may stand and share its dew drop with another near.

The essence of all beauty, I call love.

The critics could never mortify me out of heart - because I love poetry for its own sake, - and, tho' with no stoicism and some ambition, care more for my poems than for my poetic reputation.

And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each? - I dropt it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirits so far off From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief, - Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

Folded eyes see brighter colors than the open ever do.

Happy are all free peoples, too strong to be dispossessed. But blessed are those among nations who dare to be strong for the rest!