“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

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

792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—

453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —

671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—

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

732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—

956 What shall I do when the Summer t… What, when the Rose is ripe— What when the Eggs fly off in Mus… From the Maple Keep?

566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—

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…

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass