The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day

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

457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—

871 The Sun and Moon must make their… The Stars express around For in the Zones of Paradise The Lord alone is burned—

437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech

473 I am ashamed’—I hide’— What right have I’—to be a Bride’… So late a Dowerless Girl’— Nowhere to hide my dazzled Face’—

263 Is all that pins the Soul That stands for Deity, to Mine, Upon my side the Veil— Once witnessed of the Gauze—

229 A Burdock—clawed my Gown— Not Burdock’s—blame— But mine— Who went too near

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—

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

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

The grave my little cottage is, Where 'Keeping house’ for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly,

509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—