123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.

322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—

44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -

The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,

Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar

Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could… Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions—

9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.

454 It was given to me by the Gods— When I was a little Girl— They given us Presents most—you k… When we are new—and small.

A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict