619
Glee—The great storm is over—
Four—have recovered the Land—
Forty gone down together—
Into the boiling Sand.

Pink, small, and punctual,
Aromatic, low,
Covert in April,
Candid in May,
Dear to the moss,

A DROP fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.
A few went out to help the brook,

205
I should not dare to leave my frie
Because—because if he should die
While I was gone—and I—too late—
Should reach the Heart that wante

850
I sing to use the Waiting
My Bonnet but to tie
And shut the Door unto my House
No more to do have I

Me! Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place!
Me! Hear! My foreign ear
The sounds of welcome near!
The saints shall meet

Immured in Heaven!
What a Cell!
Let every Bondage be,
Thou sweetest of the Universe,
Like that which ravished thee!

286
That after Horror — that ’twas us
That passed the mouldering Pier —
Just as the Granite Crumb let go
Our Savior, by a Hair —

I envy seas whereon he rides,
I envy spokes of wheels
Of chariots that him convey,
I envy speechless hills
That gaze upon his journey;

679
Conscious am I in my Chamber,
Of a shapeless friend—
He doth not attest by Posture—
Nor Confirm—by Word—