564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

676 Least Bee that brew— A Honey’s Weight Content Her smallest fraction hel… The Amber Quantity—

635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time

519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.

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

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.

723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—

262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—

90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—

1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—