369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—

564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—

26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—

65 I can’t tell you—but you feel it— Nor can you tell me— Saints, with ravished slate and pe… Solve our April Day!

This quiet dust was gentlemen and… And lads and girls; Was laughter and ability and sighi… And frocks and curls; This passive place a summer’s nimb…

884 As Everywhere of Silver With Ropes of Sand To keep it from effacing The Track called Land.

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

325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—

83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end

852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.

I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; But the success was his, it seems, And the discomfit mine. I meant to tell her how I longed

331 While Asters— On the Hill— Their Everlasting fashions—set— And Covenant Gentians—Frill!