It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,

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

623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—

99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.

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

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -

A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—

You love the Lord—you cannot see— You write Him—every day— A little note—when you awake— And further in the Day. An Ample Letter—How you miss—

501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound—

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.