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?

543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—

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

760 Most she touched me by her mutenes… Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity—

805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!

1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different

74 A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps!

For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour

XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair

490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?