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The Grass so little has to do – A Sphere of simple Green – With only Butterflies to brood And Bees to entertain – And stir all day to pretty Tunes The Breezes fetch along – And hold the Sunshine…

The Grace—Myself—might not obtain— Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—

The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate Of minted Holiness.

The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade. A brief, but patient illness— An hour to prepare, And one below this morning Is where the angels are— It was a short procession, The…

The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come— But when the News be ripe— Presents it—in the Act— Forestalling Preparation— Escape—or Substitute— Indifference to Him— The Dower—as the Doom— His Office—but…

The Flower must not blame the Bee— That seeketh his felicity Too often at her door— But teach the Footman from Vevay— Mistress is “not at home”—to say— To people—any more!

The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing— She said her Strings were snapt— Her Bow—to Atoms blown— And so to mend her—gave me work Until another…

The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it—How still— That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it—as well— ‘Twas stiller—though the first Was still— “Twas empty—but the first Was full— This—was my finallest Occasion—…

The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.” “You’re soon,” the Town replied, “My Faces are asleep— But swear, and I will let you by, You…

The feet of people walking home With gayer sandals go— The Crocus— til she rises The Vassal of the snow— The lips at Hallelujah Long years of practise bore Til bye and bye these Bargemen Walked singing on the shore.…