Storm

Letter 381 (late 1872) T. W. Higginson

The Grass

Immortal Is An Ample Word

Answer July (386)

Invisible

I know a place where summer strives

While it is alive (491)

His mind of man, a secret makes (1663)

I am ashamed—I hide (473)

Letter 253 (early March 1862) Mrs. Samuel Bowles

A transport one cannot contain

The day came slow, till five o’ clock

Abraham to Kill Him

It will be Summer—eventually (342)

Letter 270 (about 20 July 1862) Eudocia C. Flynt

Letter 392 (August 1873) Susan Gilbert Dickinson

Tis true—They shut me in the Cold (538)

Talk with prudence to a Beggar

Exhilaration—is within (383)

I taste a liquor never brewed

Over the fence

To hang our head—ostensibly

Letter 242 (early December 1861) Samuel Bowles

The Malay—took the Pearl (452)

After great pain a formal feeling comes (J341, F372)

’Tis not that Dying hurts us so

A Train Went Through A Burial Gate

Dropped into the Ether Acre (665)

Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night (518)

A House upon the Height

How the old Mountains drip with Sunset (291)

Twas Crisis—All the length had passed

We -- Bee and I -- live by the quaffing --

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain

Letter 272 (about August 1862) Samuel Bowles

Dying

Bustle in a house

When I was small, a Woman died (596)

#280

Each life converges to some centre

The Soul that hath a Guest (674)

To Lose Thee, Sweeter Than To Gain

Such is the Force of Happiness

I think to Live—may be a Bliss (646)

That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet

They called me to the Window, for

Her—”last Poems” (312)

The Court is far away

Twas warm—at first—like Us (519)