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

His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.

596 When I was small, a Woman died— Today—her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac— His face all Victory

His voice decrepit was with Joy - Her words did totter so How old the News of Love must be To make Lips elderly That purled a moment since with G…

820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—

A Counterfeit– a Plated Person… I would not be - Whatever strata of Iniquity My Nature underlie - Truth is good Health - and Safet…

March is the Month of Expectation… The things we do not know - The Persons of prognostication Are coming now - We try to show becoming firmness -

9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.

846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—

592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning