529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.

Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?

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

366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand

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

184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!

944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn

A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass…

539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave

Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion