423 The Months have ends—the Years—a… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery—

411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—

363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…

542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—

144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.

768 When I hoped, I recollect Just the place I stood— At a Window facing West— Roughest Air—was good—

They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the June A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…

990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—

The going from a world we know To one a wonder still Is like the child’s adversity Whose vista is a hill, Behind the hill is sorcery

To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise