122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.

Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance

217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?

811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”

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

760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—

327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—

488 Myself was formed’—a Carpenter’— An unpretending time My Plane’—and I, together wrought Before a Builder came’—

My life closed twice before its cl… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive

521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—