All men for Honor hardest work
But are not known to earn -
Paid after they have ceased to wor
In Infamy or Urn -

174
At last, to be identified!
At last, the lamps upon thy side
The rest of Life to see!
Past Midnight! Past the Morning

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Midsummer, was it, when They died
A full, and perfect time—
The Summer closed upon itself
In Consummated Bloom—

248
Why’—do they shut Me out of Heave
Did I sing’—too loud?
But’—I can say a little 'Minor’
Timid as a Bird!

34
Garland for Queens, may be—
Laurels—for rare degree
Of soul or sword.
Ah—but remembering me—

In snow thou comest -
Thou shalt go with the resuming gr
The sweet derision of the crow,
And Glee’s advancing sound.
In fear thou comest -

302
Like Some Old fashioned Miracle
When Summertime is done—
Seems Summer’s Recollection
And the Affairs of June

The thought beneath so slight a fi
Is more distincly seen,—
As laces just reveal the surge,
Or mists the Apennine.

I know a place where summer strive
With such a practised frost,
She each year leads her daisies ba
Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’
But when the south wind stirs the

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