Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—

966 All forgot for recollecting Just a paltry One— All forsook, for just a Stranger’… New Accompanying—

The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…

184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!

89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—

693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—

753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…

834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.

763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—

450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—