702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—

180 As if some little Arctic flower Upon the polar hem— Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came

LXXXIX A WORD is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just

376 Of Course—I prayed— And did God Care? He cared as much as on the Air A Bird—had stamped her foot—

Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.

309 For largest Woman’s Hearth I kne… ’Tis little I can do— And yet the largest Woman’s Heart Could hold an Arrow—too—

This is my letter to the world, That never wrote to me,- The simple news that Nature told, With tender majesty Her message is committed

XVIII READ, sweet, how others strove, Till we are stouter; What they renounced, Till we are less afraid;

350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—