527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way

994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.

529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.

It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh

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

635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time

I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—

This quiet dust was gentlemen and… And lads and girls; Was laughter and ability and sighi… And frocks and curls; This passive place a summer’s nimb…

25 She slept beneath a tree— Remembered but by me. I touched her Cradle mute— She recognized the foot—

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