170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—

XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.

576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—

139 Soul, Wilt thou toss again? By just such a hazard Hundreds have lost indeed— But tens have won an all—

392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—

993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed