You love the Lord—you cannot see— You write Him—every day— A little note—when you awake— And further in the Day. An Ample Letter—How you miss—

369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—

LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.

271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—

170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!

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

151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,

If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—