634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—

161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—

110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

370 Heaven is so far of the Mind That were the Mind dissolved— The Site—of it—by Architect Could not again be proved—

My life closed twice before its cl… It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive

XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,

LXII A DROP fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh.

The Grass so little has to do— A Sphere of simple Green— With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain— And stir all day to pretty Tunes

957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—