To mend each tattered Faith There is a needle fair Though no appearance indicate ’Tis threaded in the Air And though it do not wear

213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?

121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet

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

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

342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—

460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—

Oh Shadow on the Grass, Art thou a Step or not? Go make thee fair my Candidate My nominated Heart - Oh Shadow on the Grass

89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

965 Denial—is the only fact Perceived by the Denied— Whose Will—a numb significance— The Day the Heaven died—