779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—

556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—

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

202 My Eye is fuller than my vase— Her Cargo—is of Dew— And still—my Heart—my Eye outweig… East India—for you!

By homely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing - ‘Nothing’ is the force That renovates the World -

1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…

608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!

871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—

576 I prayed, at first, a little Girl… Because they told me to— But stopped, when qualified to gue… How prayer would feel—to me—

365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore