403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—

714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—

110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!

623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—

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

117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.

327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eye… And know no other way—

707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—

715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—

134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil