134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil

To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair

823 Not that We did, shall be the tes… When Act and Will are done But what Our Lord infers We woul… Had We diviner been—

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

220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?

617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—

202 My Eye is fuller than my vase— Her Cargo—is of Dew— And still—my Heart—my Eye outweig… East India—for you!

547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—

XXIV A NARROW fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not? His notice sudden is.