550
I cross till I am weary
A Mountain—in my mind—
More Mountains—then a Sea—
More Seas—And then

Ended, ere it begun -
The Title was scarcely told
When the Preface perished from Co
The Story, unrevealed -
Had it been mine, to print!

195
For this’—accepted Breath’—
Through it’—compete with Death’—
The fellow cannot touch this Crow
By it’—my title take’—

134
Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower
But I could never sell—
If you would like to borrow,
Until the Daffodil

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

673
The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon

755
No Bobolink’—reverse His Singing
When the only Tree
Ever He minded occupying
By the Farmer be’—

415
Sunset at Night’—is natural’—
But Sunset on the Dawn
Reverses Nature’—Master’—
So Midnight’s’—due’—at Noon.

669
No Romance sold unto
Could so enthrall a Man
As the perusal of
His Individual One—

It was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down;
It was not night, for all the bell
Put out their tongues, for noon.
It was not frost, for on my flesh