824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…

‘And with what body do they come?’… Then they do come - Rejoice! What Door– What Hour– Run– ru… Illuminate the House! ‘Body!’ Then real– a Face and E…

There cam a Wind like a Bugle - It quivered through the Grass And a Green Chill upon the Heat So ominous did pass We barred the Windows and the Doo…

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in

His voice decrepit was with Joy - Her words did totter so How old the News of Love must be To make Lips elderly That purled a moment since with G…

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

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

I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear

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