A little Road—not made of Man—Enabled of the Eye—Accessible to Thill of Bee—Or Cart of Butterfly—If Town it have—beyond itself—'Tis…
A little bread—a crust—a crumb—A little trust—a demijohn—Can keep the soul alive—Not portly, mind! but breathing—warm—Conscious—as old Napoleon,The night before…
A Lady red—amid the HillHer annual secret keeps!A Lady white, within the FieldIn placid Lily sleeps!The tidy Breezes, with their…
A happy lip—breaks sudden—It doesn't state you howIt contemplated—smiling—Just consummated—now—But this one, wears its merrimentSo patient—like a pain—Fresh gilded—to elude…
A first Mute Coming—In the Stranger's House—A first fair Going—When the Bells rejoice—A first Exchange—ofWhat hath mingled—been—For Lot—exhibited toFaith—alone—