425 Good Morning—Midnight— I’m coming Home— Day—got tired of Me— How could I—of Him?

513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…

The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;

301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?

366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand

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

841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.

966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—

410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—

748 Autumn—overlooked my Knitting— Dyes—said He—have I— Could disparage a Flamingo— Show Me them—said I—

517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

625 ’Twas a long Parting—but the time For Interview—had Come— Before the Judgment Seat of God— The last—and second time