The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,

417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?

781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—

After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—

XCVI MY life closed twice before its c… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me,

’Twas Crisis—All the length had p… That dull—benumbing time There is in Fever or Event— And now the Chance had come— The instant holding in its claw

These—saw Visions— Latch them softly— These—held Dimples— Smooth them slow— This—addressed departing accents—

34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—

We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face

5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—

432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live

32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—

413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–

XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;