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

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.

97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.

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

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed

300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass

958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—

Remembrance has a Rear and Front… ’Tis something like a House - It has a Garret also For Refuse and the Mouse. Besides the deepest Cellar

789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty