237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

FORBIDDEN fruit a flavor has That lawful orchards mocks; How luscious lies the pea within The pod that Duty locks!

856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,

792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—

158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…

9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.