311
It sifts from Leaden Sieves—
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road—

535
She’s happy, with a new Content—
That feels to her—like Sacrament—
She’s busy—with an altered Care—
As just apprenticed to the Air—

98
One dignity delays for all—
One mitred Afternoon—
None can avoid this purple—
None evade this Crown!

A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel—
A Resonance of Emerald—
A Rush of Cochineal—
And every Blossom on the Bush

19
A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer’s morn—
A flask of Dew—A Bee or two—
A Breeze—a caper in the trees—

493
The World—stands—solemner—to me—
Since I was wed—to Him—
A modesty befits the soul
That bears another’s—name—

295
Unto like Story’—Trouble has enti
How Kinsmen fell’—
Brothers and Sister’—who preferre
And their young will

853
When One has given up One’s life
The parting with the rest
Feels easy, as when Day lets go
Entirely the West

Between My Country’—and the Othe
There is a Sea’—
But Flowers’—negotiate between us
As Ministry.

696
Their Height in Heaven comforts n
Their Glory—nought to me—
’Twas best imperfect—as it was—
I’m finite—I can’t see—