924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,

157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—

March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -

The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery

308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—

814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.

801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold

645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—

39 It did not surprise me— So I said—or thought— She will stir her pinions And the nest forgot,

The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars