997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

XLII SURGEONS must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,—Life!

The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,

974 The Soul’s distinct connection With immortality Is best disclosed by Danger Or quick Calamity—

152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!

I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove

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

I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!

707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—