111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—

723 It tossed—and tossed— A little Brig I knew—o’ertook by… It spun—and spun— And groped delirious, for Morn—

5 I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing— The spring decoys. And as the summer nears—

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

XXV BELSHAZZAR had a letter,— He never had but one; Belshazzar’s correspondent Concluded and begun

913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—

207 Tho’ I get home how late—how late… So I get home—’twill compensate— Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me—

117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize