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Jesus! thy Crucifix
Joy to have merited the Pain
Judgment is justest
Just as He spoke it from his Hands
Just lost, when I was saved!
Just Once! Oh least Request!
Just so – Jesus – raps


Kill your Balm – and its Odors bless you
Knock with tremor
Knows how to forget!


Lad of Athens, faithful be
Lain in Nature – so suffice us
Lay this Laurel on the one
Least Bee that brew
Least Rivers – docile to some sea
Left in immortal Youth
Lest any doubt that we are glad
Lest they should come – is all my fear
Lest this be Heaven indeed
Let down the Bars, Oh Death
Let me not mar that perfect Dream
Let me not thirst with this Hock at my Lip
Let my first knowing be of thee
Let others – show this Surry’s Grace
Let Us play Yesterday
“Lethe” in my flower
Life is death we’re lengthy at
Life, and Death, and Giants
Life – is what we make it
Lift it – with the Feathers
Light is sufficient to itself
Lightly stepped a yellow star
Like Brooms of Steel
Like Eyes that looked on Wastes
Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews
Like her the Saints retire
Like Men and Women Shadows walk
Like Mighty Foot Lights – burned the Red
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
Like Some Old fashioned Miracle
Like Time’s insidious wrinkle
Like Trains of Cars on Tracks of Plush
Lives he in any other world
Long Years apart – can make no
Longing is like the Seed
Look back on time with kindly eyes
Love can do all but raise the Dead
Love is done when Love’s begun
Love is – anterior to Life
Love – is that later Thing than Death
Love reckons by itself – alone
Love’s stricken “why”
Low at my problem bending
Luck is not chance


Make me a picture of the sun
“Mama” never forgets her birds
Many a phrase has the English language
Many cross the Rhine
March is the Month of Expectation
Me – come! My dazzled face
Me from Myself – to banish
Me prove it now – Whoever doubt
Me, change! Me, alter!
Meeting by Accident
Midsummer, was it, when They died
Mine – by the Right of the White Election!
Mine Enemy is growing old
More Life – went out – when He went
More than the Grave is closed to me
“Morning” – means “Milking”
Morning – is the place for Dew
Morning is due to all
Morning, that comes but once
Morns like these – we parted
Most she touched me by her muteness
Much madness is divinest sense
Musicians wrestle everywhere
Must be a Wo
Mute – thy Coronation
My best Acquaintances are those
My Cocoon tightens – Colors tease
My country need not change her gown
My Country’s Wardrobe
My Eye is fuller than my vase
My Faith is larger than the Hills
My first well Day – since many ill
My friend attacks my friend!
My friend must be a Bird
My Garden – like the Beach
My God – He sees thee
My Heart ran so to thee
My Heart upon a little Plate
My life closed twice before its close
My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun
My Maker – let me be
My nosegays are for Captives
My period had come for Prayer
My Portion is Defeat – today
My Reward for Being, was This
My River runs to thee
My Season’s furthest Flower
My Soul – accused Me – And I quailed
My Triumph lasted till the Drums
My Wars are laid away in Books
My wheel is in the dark!
My Worthiness is all my Doubt
Myself can read the Telegrams
Myself was formed – a Carpenter


Nature – sometimes sears a Sapling
Nature – the Gentlest Mother is
Nature affects to be sedate
Nature and God – I neither knew
Nature assigns the Sun
Nature can do no more
“Nature” is what We see
Nature rarer uses Yellow
Never for Society
New feet within my garden go
No Autumn’s intercepting Chill
No Bobolink – reverse His Singing
No Brigadier throughout the Year
No Crowd that has occurred
No ladder needs the bird but skies
No Man can compass a Despair
No man saw awe, nor to his house
No matter – now – Sweet
No matter where the Saints abide
No Notice gave She, but a Change
No Other can reduce Our
No Passenger was known to flee
No Prisoner be
No Rack can torture me
No Romance sold unto
No rose, yet felt myself a’bloom
Nobody knows this little Rose
None can experience stint
None who saw it ever told it
Noon – is the Hinge of Day
Nor Mountain hinder Me
Not all die early, dying young
Not any higher stands the Grave
Not any more to be lacked
Not any sunny tone
Not at Home to Callers
Not in this World to see his face
Not knowing when the Dawn will come
Not one by Heaven defrauded stay
Not probable – The barest Chance
Not “Revelation” – ’tis – that waits
Not seeing, still we know
Not Sickness stains the Brave
Not so the infinite Relations – Below
Not that he goes – we love him more
Not to discover weakness is
Not what We did, shall be the test
Not with a Club, the Heart is broken
Now I knew I lost her
Now I lay thee down to Sleep


Obtaining but our own extent
Of all the Souls that stand create
Of all the Sounds despatched abroad
Of Being is a Bird
Of Bronze – and Blaze
Of Brussels – it was not
Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
Of Course – I prayed
Of Death I try to think like this
Of Glory not a Beam is left
Of God we ask one favor
Of Life to own –
Of Nature I shall have enough
Of nearness to her sundered Things
Of Paradise’ existence
Of Paul and Silas it is said
Of Silken Speech and Specious Shoe
Of so divine a Loss
Of the Heart that goes in, and closes the Door
Of their peculiar light
Of this is Day composed
Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause?
Of Tribulation, these are They
Of whom so dear
Of Yellow was the outer Sky
Oh Future! thou secreted peace
Oh give it motion – deck it sweet
Oh, honey of an hour
Oh Shadow on the Grass!
Oh Sumptuous moment
Oh what a Grace is this
On a Columnar Self
On my volcano grows the Grass
On such a night, or such a night
On that dear Frame the Years had worn
On that specific Pillow
On the Bleakness of my Lot
On this long storm the Rainbow rose
On this wondrous sea
Once more, my now bewildered Dove
One and One – are One
One Anguish – in a Crowd
One Blessing had I than the rest
One crown that no one seeks
One Crucifixion is recorded – only
One Day is there of the Series
One dignity delays for all
One Joy of so much anguish
One Life of so much Consequence!
One need not be a Chamber – to be Haunted
One note from One Bird
One of the ones that Midas touched
One Sister have I in our house
One thing of thee I covet
One Year ago – jots what?
Only a Shrine, but Mine
Only God – detect the Sorrow
Opinion is a flitting thing
Opon Concluded Lives
Our journey had advanced
Our little Kinsmen – after Rain
Our little secrets slink away
Our lives are Swiss
Our own possessions – though our own
Our share of night to bear
Ourselves were wed one summer – dear
Ourselves – we do inter – with sweet derision
Out of sight? What of that?
Over and over, like a Tune
Over the fence