the prowling Bee

It was a quiet way — He asked if I was his — I made no answer of the Tongue But answer of the Eyes — And then He bore me on Before this...

The Day came slow — till Five o'clock — Then sprang before the Hills Like Hindered Rubies — or the Light A Sudden Musket — spills — ...

Two butterflies went out at Noon  And waltzed upon a Farm — And then espied Circumference And caught a ride with him – Then lost themsel...

I tried to think a lonelier Thing Than any I had seen — Some Polar Expiation — An Omen in the Bone Of Death's tremendous nearness — ...

A precious — mouldering pleasure — 'tis — To meet an Antique Book — In just the Dress his Century wore — A privilege — I think — Hi...

*Note: the following poem is out of Franklin order because I inadvertently omitted it earlier. This is the last of the out-of-order poems. ...