The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—

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

Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar

141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.

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

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—

677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—

920 We can but follow to the Sun— As oft as He go down He leave Ourselves a Sphere behin… ’Tis mostly—following—

549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—

A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east