12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.

365 Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore

His Heart was darker than the sta… For that there is a morn But in this black Receptacle Can be no Bode of Dawn

A Sickness of this World it most… When Best Men die. A Wishfulness their far Condition To occupy. A Chief indifference, as Foreign

147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!

“Morning”—means “Milking”—to the… Dawn—to the Teneriffe— Dice—to the Maid— Morning means just Risk—to the Lo… Just revelation—to the Beloved—

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

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

104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.