655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—

It’s thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—

707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—

Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—

468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—

834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.