25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—

308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—

727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—

171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!

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

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale

559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—

87 A darting fear—a pomp—a tear— A waking on a morn To find that what one waked for, Inhales the different dawn.

781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—

830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod