Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—

600 It troubled me as once I was— For I was once a Child— Concluding how an Atom—fell— And yet the Heavens—held—

428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—

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

760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—

595 Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned t… At Bases of the Trees— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting—to These—

34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—

531 We dream—it is good we are dreamin… It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek—

The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied

I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since

224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—

100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold