415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight’s—due—at Noon.

819 All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness— ’Tis Economy

When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—

549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—

The spider holds a Silver Ball In unperceived Hands— And dancing softly to Himself His Yarn of Pearl—unwinds— He plies from Nought to Nought—

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme

742 Four Trees—upon a solitary Acre— Without Design Or Order, or Apparent Action— Maintain—

852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.

191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!