997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair

636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—

We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,

31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!

302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June

422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—

Death leaves Us homesick, who beh… Except that it is gone Are ignorant of its Concern As if it were not born. Through all their former Places,…

704 672 No matter—now—Sweet— But when I’m Earl— Won’t you wish you’d spoken

840 I cannot buy it—’tis not sold— There is no other in the World— Mine was the only one I was so happy I forgot

MY cocoon tightens, colors tease, I 'm feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be

872 As the Starved Maelstrom laps the… As the Vulture teased Forces the Broods in lonely Valle… As the Tiger eased

921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.