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T

Take all away from me
Taken from men – this morning
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant
Tell as a Marksman – were forgotten
That I did always love
That it will never come again
That Love is all there is
The Angle of a Landscape
The Auctioneer of Parting
The Bible is an antique Volume
The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb
The Body grows without
The Brain – is wider than the Sky
The Bustle in a House
The Butterfly upon the Sky
The butterfly’s assumption-gown
The Chemical conviction
The Clouds their Backs together laid
The Clover’s simple Fame
The Crickets sang
The Daisy follows soft the Sun
The Dandelion’s pallid tube
The Day grew small, surrounded tight
The Day that I was crowned
The Day undressed – Herself
The difference between Despair
The distance that the dead have gone
The Dying need but little, Dear
The Fact that Earth is Heaven
The feet of people walking home
The first Day that I was a Life
The first Day’s Night had come
The Flower must not blame the Bee
The Future – never spoke
The Gentian weaves her fringe
The Grass so little has to do
The Heart asks Pleasure – first
The Heart has many Doors
The Heart has narrow Banks
The inundation of the Spring
The Judge is like the Owl
The Lady feeds Her little Bird
The largest Fire ever known
The last Night that She lived
The Life we have is very great
The Loneliness One dare not sound
The longest day that God appoints
The Love a Life can show Below
The Luxury to apprehend
The Martyr Poets – did not tell
The Moon is distant from the Sea
The Moon upon her fluent Route
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
The Morning after Woe
The morns are meeker than they were
The most pathetic thing I do
The Mountain sat upon the Plain
The Mountains – grow unnoticed
The Murmur of a Bee
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants
The name – of it – is “Autumn”
The only Ghost I ever saw
The Past is such a curious Creature
The pedigree of Honey
The Pile of Years is not so high
The Poets light but Lamps
The Products of my Farm are these
The Props assist the House
The Province of the Saved
The Red – Blaze – is the Morning
The reticent volcano keeps
The right to perish might be thought
The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune
The Rose did caper on her cheek


The Skies can’t keep their secret!
The Sky is low – the Clouds are mean
The Soul selects her own Society
The Soul that hath a Guest
The Soul unto itself
The Soul’s distinct connection
The Spider as an Artist
The Spider holds a Silver Ball
The spry Arms of the Wind
The Stars are old, that stood for me
The Sun and Fog contested
The Sun is gay or stark
The Sun kept setting – setting – still
The Sun kept stooping – stooping – low!
The Sun went down – no Man looked on
The sweetest Heresy received
The Things that never can come back
The Truth – is stirless
The Well upon the Brook
The Wind – tapped like a tired Man
The Wind took up the Northern Things
The Voice that stands for Floods to me
The Wind begun to knead the Grass
The Zeroes – taught us – Phosphorous
There is a pain – so utter
There is a solitude of space
There is another sky
There is a Languor of the Life
There’s a certain Slant of light
There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House
They called me to the Window, for
“They have not chosen me,” he said
They might not need me – Yet they might
They say that “Time assuages”
They shut me up in Prose
This – is the land – the Sunset washes –
This Consciousness that is aware
This dirty – little – Heart
This is a Blossom of the Brain
This is my letter to the World
This was a Poet – It is That
This World is not Conclusion
Those – dying then
Through lane it lay – thro’ bramble
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord
Time does go on
‘Tis little I – could care for Pearls
‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so
‘Tis Opposites – entice
‘Tis so appalling – it exhilarates
Title divine – is mine
To die – without the Dying
To fight aloud is very brave
To hear an Oriole sing
To love thee Year by Year
To make a prairie it takes
To my quick ear the Leaves – conferred
To One denied the drink
To pile like Thunder to its close
To try to speak, and miss the way
To venerate the simple days
To wait an Hour – is long
Too few the mornings be
Too happy Time dissolves itself
Too scanty ’twas to die for you
Trust in the Unexpected
Truth – is as old as God
‘Twas awkward, but it fitted me
‘Twas my one Glory
Twice had Summer her fair Verdure
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar
Two Travellers perishing in Snow