XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.

820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—

302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June

913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end

6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.

883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light

785 They have a little Odor—that to m… Is metre—nay—’tis melody— And spiciest at fading—indicate— A Habit—of a Laureate—

1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.

1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—

LV MY country need not change her go… Her triple suit as sweet As when ’t was cut at Lexington, And first pronounced “a fit.”

634 You’ll know Her—by Her Foot— The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers—where the Toes shoul… Would more affront the Sand—

After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—

99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.