458
Like eyes that looked on Wastes—
Incredulous of Ought
But Blank—and steady Wilderness—
Diversified by Night—

989
Gratitude’—is not the mention
Of a Tenderness,
But its still appreciation
Out of Plumb of Speech.

727
Precious to Me’—She still shall b
Though She forget the name I bear
The fashion of the Gown I wear’—
The very Color of My Hair’—

Not any sunny tone
From any fervent zone
Find entrance there -
Better a grave of Balm
Toward human nature’s home -

805
This Bauble was preferred of Bees
By Butterflies admired
At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances—
Was justified of Bird—

176
I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”!
I don’t care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?

671
She dwelleth in the Ground—
Where Daffodils—abide—
Her Maker—Her Metropolis—
The Universe—Her Maid—

His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,—
A worm his utmost goal.

30
Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

121
As Watchers hang upon the East,
As Beggars revel at a feast
By savory Fancy spread—
As brooks in deserts babble sweet