A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!

22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—

152 The Sun kept stooping—stooping—lo… The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose!

Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -

348 I would not paint—a picture— I’d rather be the One It’s bright impossibility To dwell—delicious—on—

746 Never for Society He shall seek in vain— Who His own acquaintance Cultivate—Of Men

535 She’s happy, with a new Content— That feels to her—like Sacrament— She’s busy—with an altered Care— As just apprenticed to the Air—

XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;

517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…