720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—

The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,

491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood

539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave

737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—

A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—

934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday

801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.