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Take all away
Take all away from me
Take your Heaven further on
Taken from men – this morning
Taking up the fair Ideal
Talk not to me of Summer Trees
Talk with prudence to a Beggar
Teach Him – When He makes the names
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant
Tell as a Marksman – were forgotten
That after Horror – that ‘twas us
That Distance was between Us
That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet
That I did always love
That is solemn we have ended
That it will never come again
That Love is all there is
That odd old man is dead a year
That sacred Closet when you sweep
That short – potential stir
That Such have died enable Us
That this should feel the need of Death
The Angle of a Landscape
The Auctioneer of Parting
The Bat is dun, with wrinkled Wings
The Battle fought between the Soul
The Bee is not afraid of me
The Beggar Lad – dies early
The Bible is an antique Volume
The Bird did prance – the Bee did play
The Bird must sing to earn the Crumb
The Birds begun at Four o’clock
The Black Berry – wears a Thorn in his side
The Blunder is in estimate
The Body grows without
The Brain – is wider than the Sky
The Brain, within its Groove
The Bustle in a House
The butterfly obtains
The Butterfly upon the Sky
The butterfly’s assumption-gown
The Butterfly’s Numidian Gown
The Chemical conviction
The Child’s faith is new
The Clouds their Backs together laid
The Clover’s simple Fame
The Color of the Grave is Green
The Court is far away
The Crickets sang
The Daisy follows soft the Sun
The Dandelion’s pallid tube
The Day came slow – till Five o’clock
The Day grew small, surrounded tight
The Day that I was crowned
The Day undressed – Herself
The Definition of Beauty is
The difference between Despair
The distance that the dead have gone
The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man
The Doomed – regard the Sunrise
The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea
The duties of the Wind are few
The Dying need but little, Dear
The face I carry with me – last –
The Fact that Earth is Heaven
The farthest Thunder that I heard
The feet of people walking home
The Fingers of the Light
The first Day that I was a Life
The first Day’s Night had come
The first We knew of Him was Death
The Flake the Wind exasperate
The Flower must not blame the Bee
The Frost of Death was on the Pane
The Future – never spoke
The Gentian weaves her fringe
The good Will of a Flower
The Grass so little has to do
The grave my little cottage is
The hallowing of Pain
The harm of Years is on him
The healed Heart shows its shallow scar
The Heart asks Pleasure – first
The Heart has many Doors
The Heart has narrow Banks
The Heart is the Capital of the Mind
The Hills erect their Purple Heads
The Hills in Purple syllables
The Himmaleh was known to stoop
The Hollows round His eager Eyes
The Immortality she gave
The incidents of Love
The Infinite a sudden Guest
The inundation of the Spring
The Judge is like the Owl
The Juggler’s Hat her Country is
The Lady feeds Her little Bird
The Lamp burns sure – within
The largest Fire ever known
The last Night that She lived
The last of Summer is Delight
The Leaves like Women interchange
The Life that tied too tight escapes
The Life we have is very great
The Lightning is a yellow Fork
The Lightning playeth – all the while
The Lilac is an ancient Shrub
The Loneliness One dare not sound
The lonesome for they know not What
The long sigh of the Frog
The longest day that God appoints
The Love a Life can show Below
The Luxury to apprehend

The maddest Dream – recedes – unrealized
The Malay – took the Pearl
The Manner of its Death
The Martyr Poets – did not tell
The Merchant of the Picturesque
The Mind lives on the Heart
The Missing All – prevented me
The mob within the heart
The Months have ends – the Years – a knot
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 Mountains stood in Haze
The Murmur of a Bee
The murmuring of Bees, has ceased
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants
The name – of it – is “Autumn”
The Night was wide, and furnished scant
The One who could repeat the Summer day
The only Ghost I ever saw
The only news I know
The Opening and the Close
The Outer – from the Inner
The Past is such a curious Creature
The pattern of the sun
The pedigree of Honey
The Pile of Years is not so high
The Poets light but Lamps
The Popular Heart is a Cannon first
The Products of my Farm are these
The Props assist the House
The Province of the Saved
The pungent Atom in the Air
The rainbow never tells me
The Rat is the concisest Tenant
The Red – Blaze – is the Morning
The reticent volcano keeps
The Riddle we can guess
The right to perish might be thought
The Robin for the Crumb
The Robin is a Gabriel
The Robin is the One
The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune
The Rose did caper on her cheek
The saddest noise, the sweetest noise
The Savior must have been
The Sea said “Come” to the Brook
The Service without Hope
The Show is not the Show
The Skies can’t keep their secret!
The Sky is low – the Clouds are mean
The smouldering embers blush
The Snow that never drifts
The Soul has Bandaged moments
The Soul selects her own Society
The Soul that hath a Guest
The Soul unto itself
The Soul’s distinct connection
The Soul’s Superior instants
The Spider as an Artist
The Spider holds a Silver Ball
The Spirit is the Conscious Ear
The Spirit lasts – but in what mode –
The spry Arms of the Wind
The Stars are old, that stood for me
The Stem of a departed Flower
The Stimulus, beyond the Grave
The Sun – just touched the Morning
The Sun and Fog contested
The Sun and Moon must make their haste
The Suburbs of a Secret
The Sun is gay or stark
The Sun is one – and on the Tare
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 Test of Love – is Death
The Things that never can come back
The things we thought that we should do
The thought beneath so slight a film
The Tint I cannot take – is best
The Treason of an accent
The Trees like Tassels – hit – and swung
The Truth – is stirless
The Voice that stands for Floods to me
The Way I read a Letter’s – this
The Well upon the Brook
The Whole of it came not at once
The Wind – tapped like a tired Man
The Wind begun to knead the Grass
The Wind didn’t come from the Orchard — today
The Wind took up the Northern Things
The Winters are so short
The World – feels Dusty
The World – stands – solemner – to me
The worthlessness of Earthly things
The Zeroes – taught us – Phosphorous
Their Hight in Heaven comforts not