959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect

It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—

306 The Soul’s Superior instants Occur to Her—alone— When friend—and Earth’s occasion Have infinite withdrawn—

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–

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

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

949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

In snow thou comest - Thou shalt go with the resuming gr… The sweet derision of the crow, And Glee’s advancing sound. In fear thou comest -