466 ’Tis little I—could care for Pear… Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me—

26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—

732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—

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

530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—

649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday

685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—

705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –

142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.

481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow

347 When Night is almost done— And Sunrise grows so near That we can touch the Spaces— It’s time to smooth the Hair—

There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—

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