To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise

271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—

148 All overgrown by cunning moss, All interspersed with weed, The little cage of “Currer Bell” In quiet “Haworth” laid.

The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,

999 Superfluous were the Sun When Excellence be dead He were superfluous every Day For every Day be said

A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east

517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—

The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown In Chrysoprase Apartments hung This afternoon put on— How condescending to descend And be of Buttercups the friend