659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—

41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses

140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—

550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.

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

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass

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

Water makes many Beds For those averse to sleep - Its awful chamber open stands - Its Curtains blandly sweep - Abhorrent is the Rest

897 How fortunate the Grave— All Prizes to obtain— Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain.

763 He told a homely tale And spotted it with tears— Upon his infant face was set The Cicatrice of years—

357 God is a distant—stately Lover— Woos, as He states us—by His Son… Verily, a Vicarious Courtship— “Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were su…