720
No Prisoner be—
Where Liberty—
Himself—abide with Thee—

51
I often passed the village
When going home from school—
And wondered what they did there—
And why it was so still—

312
Her’—"last Poems"'—
Poets’—ended’—
Silver’—perished’—w ith her Tongu
Not on Record’—bubbled other,

501
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond—
Invisible, as Music—
But positive, as Sound—

If you were coming in the fall,
I’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spum,
As housewives do a fly.
If I could see you in a year,

612
It would have starved a Gnat—
To live so small as I—
And yet I was a living Child—
With Food’s necessity

448
This was a Poet—It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings—
And Attar so immense

218
Is it true, dear Sue?
Are there two?
I shouldn’t like to come
For fear of joggling Him!

PORTRAITS are to daily faces
As an evening west
To a fine, pedantic sunshine
In a satin vest.

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,-
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty
Her message is committed