856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

134 Perhaps you’d like to buy a flower… But I could never sell— If you would like to borrow, Until the Daffodil

LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.

The Notice that is called the Spr… Is but a month from here - Put up my Heart thy Hoary work And take a Rosy Chair. Not any House the Flowers keep -

301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?

421 A Charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld— The Lady dare not lift her Veil For fear it be dispelled—

617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—

443 I tie my Hat—I crease my Shawl— Life’s little duties do—precisely— As the very least Were infinite—to me—

204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—

931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—