229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near

570 I could die—to know— ’Tis a trifling knowledge— News-Boys salute the Door— Carts—joggle by—

342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—

My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—

619 Glee—The great storm is over— Four—have recovered the Land— Forty gone down together— Into the boiling Sand.

56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—

486 I was the slightest in the House— I took the smallest Room— At night, my little Lamp, and Boo… And one Geranium—