The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -

140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—

Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –

Between My Country—and the Other… There is a Sea— But Flowers—negotiate between us— As Ministry.

Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine

294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.

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—

It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh

995 This was in the White of the Year… That—was in the Green— Drifts were as difficult then to t… As Daisies now to be seen—

907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—