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

Air has no Residence, no Neighbor… No Ear, no Door, No Apprehension of Another Oh, Happy Air! Ethereal Guest at e’en an Outcast…

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

879 Each Second is the last Perhaps, recalls the Man Just measuring unconsciousness The Sea and Spar between.

453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —

A Counterfeit– a Plated Person… I would not be - Whatever strata of Iniquity My Nature underlie - Truth is good Health - and Safet…

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—

430 It would never be Common—more—I s… Difference—had begun— Many a bitterness—had been— But that old sort—was done—

322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—