715 The World—feels Dusty When We stop to Die— We want the Dew—then— Honors—taste dry—

302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June

XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy

982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look

8 There is a word Which bears a sword Can pierce an armed man— It hurls its barbed syllables

932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude

78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—

462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

He ate and drank the precious Wor… His Spirit grew robust— He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was Dust— He danced along the dingy Days