They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low,— He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky. The leaves unhooked themselves fro…

Revolution is the Pod Systems rattle from When the Winds of Will are stirre… Excellent is Bloom But except its Russet Base

637 The Child’s faith is new— Whole—like His Principle— Wide—like the Sunrise On fresh Eyes—

Going to him! Happy letter! Tell… Tell him the page I didn’t write; Tell him I only said the syntax, And left the verb and the pronoun… Tell him just how the fingers hurr…

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

814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.

720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—

83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—

76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—

574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —

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