141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed

316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—

52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—

A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,

814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.

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

363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…

138 Pigmy seraphs—gone astray— Velvet people from Vevay— Balles from some lost summer day— Bees exclusive Coterie—

331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!

900 What did They do since I saw The… Were They industrious? So many questions to put Them Have I the eagerness

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—