718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—

981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do

660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—

‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us

723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—

His voice decrepit was with Joy - Her words did totter so How old the News of Love must be To make Lips elderly That purled a moment since with G…

776 The Color of a Queen, is this— The Color of a Sun At setting—this and Amber— Beryl—and this, at Noon—

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—

444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—

Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—