294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—

257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

Too cold is this To warm with Sun - Too stiff to bended be, To joint this Agate were a work - Outstaring Masonry -

725 Where Thou art—that—is Home— Cashmere—or Calvary—the same— Degree—or Shame— I scarce esteem Location’s Name—

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.

861 Split the Lark—and you’ll find th… Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled… Scantilly dealt to the Summer Mor… Saved for your Ear when Lutes be…

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

The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.

XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.

191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!