I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

722 Sweet Mountains—Ye tell me no lie… Never deny Me—Never fly— Those same unvarying Eyes Turn on Me—when I fail—or feign,

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,

LX A SHADY friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.

186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—

940 On that dear Frame the Years had… Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Lig… The Witnessing, to Us—

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed

Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

481 The Himmaleh was known to stoop Unto the Daisy low— Transported with Compassion That such a Doll should grow

855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain

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