The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

972 Unfulfilled to Observation— Incomplete—to Eye— But to Faith—a Revolution In Locality—

473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—

97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.

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

250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—

38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!

I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,

714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—

733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—

228 Blazing in Gold and quenching in… Leaping like Leopards to the Sky Then at the feet of the old Horiz… Laying her spotted Face to die