22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—

588 I cried at Pity—not at Pain— I heard a Woman say “Poor Child”—and something in her… Convicted me—of me—

962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—

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

388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen

13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand

UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…

The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars

243 I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent— To wrap its shining Yards— Pluck up its stakes, and disappear… Without the sound of Boards

A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,

767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine