266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,

89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

574 My first well Day — since many il… I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands… And see the things in Pod —

86 South Winds jostle them— Bumblebees come— Hover—hesitate— Dri nk, and are gone—

They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers— Untouched by Morning— and untouched by noon— Sleep the meek members of the Res… Rafter of Satin and Roof of Ston…

593 I think I was enchanted When first a sombre Girl— I read that Foreign Lady— The Dark—felt beautiful—

332 There are two Ripenings—one—of si… Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground—

690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—

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

The show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play—