I see thee better—in the Dark— I do not need a Light— The Love of Thee—a Prism be— Excelling Violet— I see thee better for the Years

657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—

851 When the Astronomer stops seeking For his Pleiad’s Face— When the lone British Lady Forsakes the Arctic Race

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,

A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King, But God be with the Clown - Who ponders this tremendous scene… This whole Experiment of Green -

711 Strong Draughts of Their Refresh… To drink—enables Mine Through Desert or the Wilderness As bore it Sealed Wine—

293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—

731 “I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead—

Is it too late to touch you, Dear… We this moment knew - Love Marine and Love terrene - Love celestial too -

386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?

They shut me up in Prose — As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet — Because they liked me “still” — Still! Could themself have peeped…

592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning

589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—

848 Just as He spoke it from his Hand… This Edifice remain— A Turret more, a Turret less Dishonor his Design—

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long—