111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—

XLII SURGEONS must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit,—Life!

235 The Court is far away— No Umpire—have I— My Sovereign is offended— To gain his grace—I’d die!

The thought beneath so slight a fi… Is more distincly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.

313 I should have been too glad, I se… Too lifted—for the scant degree Of Life’s penurious Round— My little Circuit would have sham…

784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—

Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance

The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—