We play at paste, Till qualified for pearl, Then drop the paste, And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar,

Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.

295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will

945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—

899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.

’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

837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.

6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.

375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—

394 ’Twas Love’—not me’— Oh punish’—pray’— The Real one died for Thee’— Just Him’—not me’—

553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—

12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.

330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!