411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—

366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand

995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—

713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—

An Antiquated Tree Is cherished of the Crow Because that Junior Foliage is di… To venerable Birds Whose Corporation Coat

The day came slow, till five o’clo… Then sprang before the hills, Like hindered rubies, or the light… A sudden musket spills. The purple could not keep the east…

530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—

752 So the Eyes accost—and sunder In an Audience— Stamped—occasionally—forever— So may Countenance

I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died

470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—