’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme

644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—

195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—

808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see

403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—

The sky is low, the clouds are mea… A travelling flake of snow Across a barn or through a rut Debates if it will go. A narrow wind complains all day

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?

542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—

636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—

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

811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”

God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly

Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.