Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since

353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—

111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—

359 I gained it so— By Climbing slow— By Catching at the Twigs that gro… Between the Bliss—and me—

The thought beneath so slight a fi… Is more distincly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a str… Unwind the solemn twine, and tie m… Oh the Earth was made for lovers,… For sighing, and gentle whispering… All things do go a courting, in ea…

102 Great Caesar! Condescend The Daisy, to receive, Gathered by Cato’s Daughter, With your majestic leave!

400 A Tongue—to tell Him I am true! Its fee—to be of Gold— Had Nature—in Her monstrous Hous… A single Ragged Child—