977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair

855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…

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

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

604 Unto my Books—so good to turn— Far ends of tired Days— It half endears the Abstinence— And Pain—is missed—in Praise—

527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way

XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.

945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—