the prowling Bee

Her sweet Weight on my Heart a Night Had scarcely deigned to lie — When, stirring, for Belief's delight, My Bride had slipped away —...

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged — a Summer Afternoon — Repairing Everywhere — Without Design — that I coul...

A Night — there lay the Days between — The Day that was Before — And Day that was Behind — were One — And now — 'twas Night — was he...

So glad we are — a stranger'd deem 'Twas sorry – that we were — For where the Holiday – should be – There publishes – a Tear — ...

I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come — And we are waiting for the Coach — It seems as though the Time Indignant ...

Except the smaller size No lives are round — These — hurry to a sphere And show and end — The larger — slower grow And later hang — Th...