331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!

The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,

597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—

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

388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen

The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low,— He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky. The leaves unhooked themselves fro…

688 “Speech”—is a prank of Parliament… “Tears”—is a trick of the nerve— But the Heart with the heaviest f… Doesn't—always—move—

828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—

883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light

XLVII IS Heaven a physician? They say that He can heal; But medicine posthumous Is unavailable.

275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—