737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—

698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—

704 672 No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken

529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.

506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me

The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,

472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—

1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—

Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!

964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—

158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?

His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.

438 Forget! The lady with the Amulet Forget she wore it at her Heart Because she breathed against Was Treason twixt?

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,