Abigail’s Reviews > The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 8 > Status Update

June, and all that came with it

One should go away long enough to know the cotton-soft contentment of coming home

What penance do I pay for catching you in my storm

He played as if he dared not allow the looseness of the June woodland steal the notes before he claimed them for his own

The taste of poetry still on my tongue

This is a place that knows every old thing

Every morning should begin with a cello

All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;—on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.