344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—

910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be

LV MY country need not change her go… Her triple suit as sweet As when ’t was cut at Lexington, And first pronounced “a fit.”

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

A Route of Evanescence With a revolving Wheel— A Resonance of Emerald— A Rush of Cochineal— And every Blossom on the Bush

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

’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

XIV I’M ceded, I ’ve stopped being th… The name they dropped upon my face With water, in the country church, Is finished using now,

756 One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size—