673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…

558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;

926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

622 To know just how He suffered—woul… To know if any Human eyes were ne… To whom He could entrust His wave… Until it settle broad—on Paradise…

217 Savior! I’ve no one else to tell— And so I trouble thee. I am the one forgot thee so— Dost thou remember me?

83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

The Grass so little has to do— A Sphere of simple Green— With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain— And stir all day to pretty Tunes

154 Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels—lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown.

784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—