XVII SHE rose to his requirement, drop… The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.

354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—

I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died

I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.

385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—

849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate

So much of Heaven has gone from E… That there must be a Heaven If only to enclose the Saints To Affidavit given. The Missionary to the Mole

She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,

467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—

114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!