195
For this’—accepted Breath’—
Through it’—compete with Death’—
The fellow cannot touch this Crow
By it’—my title take’—

420
You’ll know it’—as you know ’tis
By Glory’—
As you do the Sun’—
By Glory’—

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

IS Heaven a physician?
They say that He can heal;
But medicine posthumous
Is unavailable.
Is Heaven an exchequer?

Some keep the Sabbath going to Ch
I keep it, staying at Home—
With a Bobolink for a Chorister—
And an Orchard, for a Dome—
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice

698
Life’—is what we make of it’—
Death’—we do not know’—
Christ’s acquaintance with Him
Justify Him’—though’—

131
Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze—

776
The Color of a Queen, is this—
The Color of a Sun
At setting—this and Amber—
Beryl—and this, at Noon—

798
She staked her Feathers—Gained an
Debated—Rose again—
This time—beyond the estimate
Of Envy, or of Men—

985
The Missing All’—prevented Me
From missing minor Things.
If nothing larger than a World’s
Departure from a Hinge’—