895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me

831 Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot

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.

781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—

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

348 I would not paint—a picture— I’d rather be the One It’s bright impossibility To dwell—delicious—on—

364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

I know a place where summer strive… With such a practised frost, She each year leads her daisies ba… Recording briefly, ‘Lost.’ But when the south wind stirs the…

878 The Sun is gay or stark According to our Deed. If Merry, He is merrier— If eager for the Dead

977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—