241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,

863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—

915 Faith—is the Pierless Bridge Supporting what We see Unto the Scene that We do not— Too slender for the eye

176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

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

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

244 It is easy to work when the soul i… But when the soul is in pain— The hearing him put his playthings… Makes work difficult—then—

LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.

144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.

202 My Eye is fuller than my vase— Her Cargo—is of Dew— And still—my Heart—my Eye outweig… East India—for you!