401 What Soft—Cherubic Creatures— These Gentlewomen are— One would as soon assault a Plush… Or violate a Star—

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

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

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—

91 So bashful when I spied her! So pretty—so ashamed! So hidden in her leaflets Lest anybody find—

354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—