392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—

623 It was too late for Man— But early, yet, for God— Creation—impotent to help— But Prayer—remained—Our Side—

58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…

991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—

170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!

65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!

Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…

866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—

412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—

To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!