54 If I should die, And you should live— And time should gurgle on— And morn should beam—

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

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

86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

776 The Color of a Queen, is this— The Color of a Sun At setting—this and Amber— Beryl—and this, at Noon—

146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—

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

LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.