500
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel—
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As ’twere a travelling Mill—

786
Severer Service of myself
I—hastened to demand
To fill the awful Vacuum
Your life had left behind—

130
These are the days when Birds com
A very few—a Bird or two—
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies resu

285
The Robin’s my Criterion for Tun
Because I grow—where Robins do—
But, were I Cuckoo born—
I’d swear by him—

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

626
Only God’—detect the Sorrow’—
Only God’—
The Jehovahs’—are no Babblers’—
Unto God’—

WHETHER my bark went down at se
Whether she met with gales,
Whether to isles enchanted
She bent her docile sails;
By what mystic mooring

Out of sight? What of that?
See the Bird —reach it!
Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep —
Round the Steep Air —
Danger! What is that to Her?

841
A Moth the hue of this
Haunts Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.

It sounded as if the Streets were
And then– the Streets stood stil
Eclipse - was all we could see at
And Awe - was all we could feel.
By and by - the boldest stole out