984
’Tis Anguish grander than Delight
’Tis Resurrection Pain—
The meeting Bands of smitten Face
We questioned to, again.

850
I sing to use the Waiting
My Bonnet but to tie
And shut the Door unto my House
No more to do have I

326
I cannot dance upon my Toes’—
No Man instructed me’—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

September’s Baccalaureate
A combination is
Of Crickets– Crows– and Retros
And a dissembling Breeze
That hints without assuming -

84
Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a “Diver”—
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.

A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
That makes no show for dawn
By strech of limb or stir of lid,—
An independent one.
Was ever idleness like this?

594
The Battle fought between the Sou
And No Man—is the One
Of all the Battles prevalent—
By far the Greater One—

A happy lip—breaks sudden—
It doesn’t state you how
It contemplated—smiling—
Just consummated—now—
But this one, wears its merriment

558
But little Carmine hath her face—
Of Emerald scant—her Gown—
Her Beauty—is the love she doth—
Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;

My Garden’—like the Beach’—
Denotes there be’—a Sea’—
That’s Summer’—
Such as These’—the Pearls
She fetches’—such as Me