200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!

60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal

236 If He dissolve – then – there is… Eclipse – at Midnight – It was dark – before – Sunset – at Easter –

719 A South Wind—has a pathos Of individual Voice— As One detect on Landings An Emigrant’s address.

A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,

High from the earth I heard a bir… He trod upon the trees As he esteemed them trifles, And then he spied a breeze, And situated softly

After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—

151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,

284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…

213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?

855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain

736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—