467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—

433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how

154 Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels—lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown.

506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me

710 The Sunrise runs for Both— The East—Her Purple Troth Keeps with the Hill— The Noon unwinds Her Blue

302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June

662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud

109 By a flower—By a letter— By a nimble love— If I weld the Rivet faster— Final fast—above—

227 Teach Him – When He makes the na… Such an one – to say – On his babbling – Berry – lips – As should sound – to me –

657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—

951 As Frost is best conceived By force of its Result— Affliction is inferred By subsequent effect—

893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—

761 From Blank to Blank— A Threadless Way I pushed Mechanic feet— To stop—or perish—or advance—