E

Each that we lose takes part of us
Eden is that old–fashioned House
Elysium is as far as to
Empty my Heart, of Thee
Ended, ere it begun
Endow the Living – with the Tears
Essential Oils – are wrung
Except the smaller size
Except to Heaven, she is nought
Exhilaration – is within
Experience is the Angled Road
Experiment escorts us last
Experiment to me
Exultation is the going

F

Faith – is the Pierless Bridge
“Faith” is a fine invention
Fame is a bee
Fame of Myself, to justify
Fame’s Boys and Girls
Far from Love the Heavenly Father
Finding is the first Act
For each ecstatic instant
For Death – or rather
For every Bird a Nest
For largest Woman’s Hearth I knew
Forbidden Fruit a flavor has
Forever – is composed of Nows
Forget! The lady with the Amulet
Four Trees – upon a solitary Acre
Frequently the woods are pink
From Blank to Blank
From Us She wandered now a Year
Further in Summer than the Birds

G

Garlands for Queens, may be
Given in Marriage unto Thee
Glowing is her Bonnet
God is a distant – stately Lover
God is indeed a jealous God
God made a little Gentian
Going to Heaven!
Good Morning – Midnight
“Good night,” because we must!
Gratitude – is not the mention
Great Caesar! Condescend
Grief is a Mouse
Growth of Man – like Growth of Nature

H

Had I presumed to hope
Have any like Myself
He fought like those Who’ve nought to lose
He found my Being – set it up
He fumbles at your Soul
He gave away his Life
He parts Himself – like Leaves
He preached upon “Breadth”
He strained my faith
He told a homely tale
He touched me, so I live to know
He was my host – he was my guest
He was weak, and I was strong – then
He who in Himself believes
Heart not so heavy as mine
Heart! We will forget him!
“Heaven” – is what I cannot reach!
“Heaven” has different Signs – to me
“Heavenly Father” – take to thee
Her – “last Poems”
Her final Summer was it
Her Losses make our Gains ashamed
Her spirit rose to such a height
His Feet are shod with Gauze
His oriental heresies
Hope is a strange invention
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
“Houses” – so the Wise Men tell me
How brittle are the Piers
How destitute is he
How far is it to Heaven?
How happy I was if I could forget
How happy is the little Stone
How many Flowers fail in Wood
How soft this Prison is
How still the Bells in Steeples stand