The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery

861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…

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

939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—

His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.

426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—

93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!

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

588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—