Collected Poems Read Online

He sees the religious climate in which she livedthat of a "puritan theocracy"as the atmosphere in which her particular kind of poetry could function most effectively. Thus he declares: "It gave an heroic proportion and a tragic mode to the experience of the individual . . . it had an immense, incalculable value for literature; it dramatized the human soul."

		These are large words and perhaps they overstate their case; yet at least they gave a plausible reason why Emily Dickinson's sort of poetry could be written in the latter half of the nineteenth century in America. Such general observations about society and religion are not value judgments, they neither clarify nor annotate the poems themselves. They are, in fact, extraliterary reflections, useful scaffoldings, not pathways into the poetry. But they do clear the ground round the poems and enable the reader to examine them on their own terms.

		It has been suggested already that Emily Dickinson's poems are notable for their nakedness, for their fearless presentation of

 

Page 397 experiences which are deeply, and often painfully, personal. But this poet was such a finely adjusted instrument for recording experience that the findings of vision, pain or pleasure which appear in her verse often have a universal application. And it is, oddly enough, sometimes a kind of wry wit which makes this generalizing power so effective, as in the following short poem: To hang our head ostensibly  And subsequent, to find  That such was not the posture  Of our immortal mind Affords the sly presumption  That in so dense a fuzz  You too take cobweb attitudes  Upon a plane of gauze. It is difficult, I think, to see how any critic could claim that Emily Dickinson had no thinking power when they have the evidence of such a poem as this before them. If Emily Dickinson often seems epigrammatic, even aphoristic, her ideas and her wit are not reproving or admonishing. She is, in one sense, always speaking to herself. It is as if we, her readers, were privileged to overhear her meditations and her arguments with herself. This intense poetry in the very best sense, taut and vibrant not with emotions and ideas which the poet has already formulated outside her poems, but alive with the very process of thought and feeling. A vision is thus caught on the wing, not trapped but held and halted momentarily, just long enough for the poem to be written. James Reeves, in his sensitive Introduction to a selection of the poems, goes far towards explaining the nervous honesty of Emily Dickinson's work when he says, "She did not withdraw from the world because she hated it: there was nothing in her

 

Page 398 of the grand romantic manner, rejecting society because the palate had become jaded. Her isolation was a calculated choice, the loss weighed against the gain, with a clear conviction of the necessity and worth of what she had to do." And again, Reeves declares, "Friends were her estate, but language was her province, and she delighted in perfecting it, whether in verse or in prose. She had what can only be called an aristocratic spirit, high-minded but without a trace of priggishness, serious without self-importance, shrewd enough to be malicious had she wished, but too gentle and kind for malice." Reeves is also eager to point out that there was nothing escapist about Emily Dickinson's attitude to life. On the contrary; if she appears to have been retiring and almost eremitical, it was because such an existence enabled her to live more fully, to face her personal predicaments with more dedication and more fearlessness. For her, language was what prayer is to the religious contemplative She has indicated this in the following eight-line poem: The soul unto itself  Is an imperial friend,  Or the most agonising spy  An enemy could send Secure against its own,  No treason it can fear.  Itself its sovereign, of itself  The soul should stand in awe. Emily Dickinson usually restricts herself to the quatrain or the six-line stanza, but if she thus severely limits herself in the matter of form, she compensates for this limitation by her extremely skilful use of half- and quarter-rhymes and also by her extraordinarily apt and original handling of language. Her poems are fresh not simply because they are quite unlike

 

Page 399 anyone else's but because they seem to have appropriated a poetic speech and vocabulary hitherto unknown in American or English verse. She has a complete mastery of both sensuous and abstract words, and the success of her best lyrics is often due to a cunning juxtaposition of these two modes of language She is one of the very few poets who can shock and delight as easily and directly by her handling of abstractions as by the justness and decorum of her concrete imagery. Let me give an example of what I mean by quoting one of her poems: Exultation is the going  Of an inland soul to sea,  Past the houses, past the headlands,  Into deep eternity. Bred as we, among the mountains,  Can the sailor understand  The divine intoxication  Of the first league out from land? Death is the subject of many of Emily Dickinson's poems, and death for her is as near, as familiar, as commonplace even, as love affairs are in the poems of less self-sufficient poets. Yet she is not a domestic poet, nor a writer who has found a comfortable niche among matters and subjects which are usually thought to be the special province of women poets. Her poems are as bare as Emily Brontë's, as ecstatic as some of Blake's shorter lyrics. If her poems are short, if she is economical and extremely severe with herself, this is because her subjects are so large that they are more effectively presented, more resonant, if they are only hinted at rather than considered at length or extended into long meditations. Her visions are so elusive that to be truthful to them, to suggest the momentariness of their coming and going, she too must be

 

Page 400 brief but also precise. So in the following twelve-line poem, she tells us more about the questing, visionary mind than many other poets have succeeded in doing in a complete æuvre: The soul selects her own society,  Then shuts the door.  To her divine majority  Present no more. Unmoved she notes the chariots pausing  At her low gate;  Unmoved, an Emperor be kneeling  Upon her mat. I've known her from an ample nation  Choose one,  Then close the valves of her attention  Like stone. Allen Tate has some useful things to say about this power of Emily Dickinson's to ensnare and hold an elusive idea: It is a poetry of ideas [he says], and it demands of the reader a point of viewnot an opinion of the New Deal or of the League of Nations, but an ingrained philosophy that is fundamental, a settled attitude that is almost extinct in this eclectic age. Yet it is not the sort of poetry of ideas which, like Pope's, requires a point of view only. It requires also, for the deepest understanding, which must go beneath the verbal excitement of the style, a highly developed sense of the specific quality of poetrya quality that most persons accept as the accidental feature of something else that the poet thinks he has to say.

 

Page 401 Thus Emily Dickinson's poems would seem to demand not only an open sympathy from the reader but also the deepest and most sensitive kind of poetic response. She asks for a total engagement, not necessarily a complete surrender but certainly an acquiescence of the mind and an alertness of the senses. As has been said already, this is a poet who extorted the largest possible amount of poetic material from the most apparently meager personal experience The explanation of this phenomenon is, of course, that Emily Dickinson had an intensely rich inner life. One might almost say that what mountains were to Wordsworth and what social life was to Pope, the movements of her own mind and heart were to Emily Dickinson. Elizabeth Jennings (b. 1926) has authored numerous books of criticism and poetry, including Every Changing Shape and her own Collected Poems.

 

Page 403 INDEX

 

Page 404 A Adrift! A little boat adrift!, 299 Adventure most unto itself, 320 Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?, 79 After a hundred years, 211 Ah, Teneriffe!, 333 All circumstances are the frame, 383 All I may, if small, 373 All overgrown by cunning moss, 304 Alter? When the hills do, 33 An altered look about the hills, 152 Ambition cannot find him, 369 Ample make this bed, 197 Angels in the early morning, 57 Apparently with no surprise, 61 Arcturus is his other name, 161 Are friends delight or pain?, 231 As by the dead we love to sit, 189 As children bid the guest good-night, 57 As far from pity as complaint, 284 As if some little Arctic flower, 37 As imperceptibly as grief, 177 Ashes denote that fire was, 231 At half-past three a single bird, 146 At last to be identified!, 82 At least to pray is left, is left, 184 An awful tempest mashed the air, 162 B The bat is dun with wrinkled wings, 271 Beauty crowds me till I die, 337 Because I could not stop for Death, 81 The bee is not afraid of me, 49 Before I got my eye put out, 117 Before the ice is in the pools, 297 Before you thought of spring, 151 Belshazzar had a letter, 30 Bereaved of all, I went abroad, 289 Besides the autumn poets sing, 179 A bird came down the walk, 163 Blazing in gold and quenching in purple, 176 Bless God, he went as soldiers, 285 Bloom upon the Mountain, stated, 339 The blunder is to estimate, 325 The body grows outside, 121 The bone that has no marrow, 240 The brain is wider than the sky, 239 The brain within its groove, 31 Bring me the sunset in a cup, 175 The bustle in a house, 78 The butterfly obtains, 336 The butterfly's assumption-gown, 60 C Candor, my tepid Friend, 370

 

Page 405 A cap of lead across the sky, 343 A charm invests a face, 140 A clock stoppednot the mantel's, 303 The clouds their backs together laid, 74 Come slowly, Eden!, 45 Could I but ride indefinite, 269 Could mortal lip divine, 222 The cricket sang, 273 Crisis is sweet and, set the Heart, 376 D The daisy follows soft the sun, 85 Dare you see a soul at the white heat?, 100 The day came slow, till five o'clock, 147 Dear March, come in!, 261 Death is a dialogue between, 83 Death is like the insect, 281 Death sets a thing significant, 190 A death-blow is a life-blow to some, 185 A deed knocks first at thought, 120 Delayed till she had ceased to know, 67 Delight becomes pictorial, 107 Departed to the judgment, 68 The Devil, had he fidelity, 363 A dew sufficed itself, 267 Did the harebell loose her girdle, 140 The difference between despair, 328 Distance is not the realm of Fox, 375 The distance that the dead have gone, 280 A door just opened on a street, 230 Doubt me, my dim companion!, 34 Down Time's quaint stream, 330 Drab habitation of whom?, 273 A drop fell on the apple tree, 52 Dropped into the, 353 Drowning is not so pitiful, 220 Dust is the only secret, 369 The Duties of the Wind are few, 341 The dying need but little, dear, 293 E Each life converges to some centre, 116 Each that we lose takes part of us, 283 Eden is that old fashioned House, 370 Elijah's wagon knew no thill, 364 Elysium is as far as to, 33 Essential oils are wrung, 199 An everywhere of silver, 162 Except the heaven had come so near, 114 Except the smaller size, no Lives are round, 320 Except to heaven, she is nought, 83

 

Page 406 Exhilaration is the Breeze, 323 Experiment to me, 112 Exultation is the going, 70 F A face devoid of love or grace, 224 The Face we choose to miss, 381 Faith is a fine invention, 113 Fame is a fickle food, 321 Far from love the Heavenly Father, 305 Farther in summer than the birds, 176 The farthest thunder that I heard, 229 Fate slew him, but he did not drop, 232 Father, I bring thee not myself, 253 The feet of people walking home, 359 Few get enough,enough is one, 227 Finite to fail, but infinite to venture, 232 Follow wise Orion, 350 For Death,or rather, 353 For each ecstatic instant, 103 Forbidden fruit a flavor has, 217 Forever cherished by the tree, 347 Frequently the woods are pink, 171 From all the jails the boys and girls, 226 From cocoon forth a butterfly, 150 From us she wandered now a year, 288 The Future never spoke, 331 G The gentian weaves her fringes, 178 Given in marriage unto thee, 278 The gleam of an heroic act, 329 Glee! the great storm is over!, 19 Glory is that bright tragic thing, 326 Glowing is her Bonnet, 347 God gave a loaf to every bird, 112 God made a little gentian, 179 God permits industrious angels, 75 Going to heaven!, 183 Going to him! Happy letter! Tell him, 136 Good night! which put the candle out?, 119 The grass so little has to do, 51 The grave my little cottage is, 286 Great streets of silence led away, 208 H Had this one day not been, 379 Have you got a brook in your little heart, 36 He ate and drank the precious words, 28 He fumbles at your spirit, 252 He preached upon ''breadth" till it argued, 118 He put the belt around my life, 143 He touched me, so I live to know, 255

 

Page 407 The healed Heart shows its shallow scar, 382 Heart, we will forget him!, 252 The heart asks pleasure first, 21 Heart not so heavy as mine, 122 Heaven is what I cannot reach!, 218 "Heavenly Father," take to thee, 367 Her final summer was it, 201 Her Grace is all she has, 378 Her "Last Poems,' 361 High from the earth I heard a bird, 265 The Hills erect their purple heads, 345 His bill an auger is, 268 His Cheek is his Biographer, 367 His mind, of man a secret makes, 327 Hope is a subtle glutton, 217 Hope is the thing with feathers, 100 How dare the robins sing, 280 How destitute is he, 375 How happy is the little stone, 170 How many times these low feet staggered, 72 How still the bells in steeples stand, 220 How the old mountains drip with sunset, 274 I I asked no other thing, 23 I bet with every Wind that blew, till Nature, 330 I breathed enough to learn the trick, 295 I bring an unaccustomed wine, 97 I can wade grief, 102 I can't tell you, but you feel it, 335 I cannot live with you, 39 I did not reach thee, 384 I died for beauty, but was scarce, 71 I dreaded that first robin so, 157 I envy seas whereon he rides, 256 I felt a clearing in my mind, 228 I felt a funeral in my brain, 290 I fit for them, 358 I found the phrase to every thought, 99 I gained it so, 126 I gave myself to him, 135 I had a daily bliss, 236 I had a guinea golden, 225 I had been hungry all the years, 125 I had no cause to be awake, 195 I had no time to hate, because, 29 I have a king who does not speak, 234 I have no life but this, 132 I have not told my garden yet, 187

 

Page 408 I heard a fly buzz when I died, 298 I held a jewel in my fingers, 143 I hide myself within my flower, 35 I know a place where summer strives, 167 I know some lonely houses off the road, 24 I know that he exists, 129 I like a look of agony, 72 I like to see it lap the miles, 106 I live with him, I see his face, 256 I lived on dread; to those who know, 199 I lost a world the other day, 87 I many times thought peace had come, 123 I meant to find her when I came, 290 I meant to have but modest needs, 104 I measure every grief I meet, 233 I never hear the word "escape," 102 I never lost as much but twice, 89 I never saw a moor, 75 I never told the buried gold, 338 I noticed people disappeared, 194 I read my sentence steadily, 186 I reason, earth is short, 79 I see thee better in the dark, 356 I send two Sunsets, 344 I shall know why, when time is over, 89 I should have been too glad, I see, 110 I should not dare to leave my friend, 207 I showed her heights she never saw, 377 I sing to use the waiting, 291 I started early, took my dog, 160 I stepped from plank to plank, 244 I taste a liquor never brewed, 28 I think just how my shape will rise, 210 I think that the root of the Wind is Water, 342 I think the hemlock likes to stand, 64 I took my power in my hand, 115 I watched her face to see which way, 355 I went to heaven, 191 I went to thank her, 73 I wish I knew that woman's name, 289 I wonder if the supulchre, 296 I worked for chaff, and earning wheat, 237 I years had been from home, 128 I'll tell you how the sun rose, 59 I'm ceded, I've stopped being theirs, 42 I'm nobody! Who are you?, 97 I'm thinking of that other morn, 362 I'm wife; I've finished that, 44 I've got an arrow here, 251

 

Page 409 I've seen a dying eye, 74 If anybody's friend be dead, 196 If I can stop one heart from breaking, 19 If I could tell how glad I was, 378 If I may have it when it's dead, 297 If I should die, 200 If I should n't be alive, 87 If recollecting were forgetting, 229 If the foolish call them "flowers," 221 If tolling bell I ask the cause, 296 If what we could were what we would, 324 If you were coming in the fall, 34 If pain for peace prepares, 357 Immortal is an ample word, 286 Immured in Heaven! What a Cell!, 361 In lands I never saw, they say, 142 In Winter, in my room, 351 The incidents of Love, 380 The inundation of the Spring, 374 Is bliss, then, such abyss, 243 Is Heaven a physician?, 108 It can't be summer,that got through, 177 It dropped so low in my regard, 235 It is an honorable thought, 279 It makes no difference abroad, 58 It might be easier, 242 It sifts from leaden sieves, 180 It sounded as if the streets were running, 170 It struck me every day, 301 It tossed and tossed, 111 It was not death, for I stood up, 206 It was too late for man, 84 It's all I have to bring to-day, 214 It's like the light, 267 It's such a little thing to weep, 219 J Just lost when I was saved!, 131 Just so, Jesus rapsHe does not weary, 380 L A lady red upon the hill, 260 The largest fire ever known, 339 The last night that she lived, 77 Lay this laurel on the one, 211 The leaves, like women, interchange, 169 Let down the bars, O Death!, 182 Let me not mar that perfect dream, 255 Life, and Death, and Giants, 237 A light exists in spring, 259 Lightly stepped a yellow star, 345

 

Page 410 Like brooms of steel, 350 Like Men and Women shadows walk, 336 Like mighty footlights burned the red, 174 Like some old fashioned miracle, 346 Like trains of cars on tracks of plush, 56 A little madness in the Spring, 334 A little over Jordan, 368 A little road not made of man, 52 A long, long sleep, a famous sleep, 306 The long sigh of the Frog, 343 Look back on time with kindly eyes, 70 The Look of Thee, what is it like?, 363 Love is anterior to life, 247 Love reckons by itself alone, 373 Low at my problem bending, 357 The luxury to apprehend, 372 M March is the month of expectation, 340 Me! Come! My dazzled face, 288 Mine by the right of the white election!, 32 Mine enemy is growing old, 120 The missing All prevented me, 327 A modest lot, a fame petite, 243 The moon is distant from the sea, 142 The Moon upon her fluent route, 345 The moon was but a chin of gold, 270 Morning is the place for dew, 264 "Morning" means "Milking" to the, 334 The morns are meeker than they were, 63 Morns like these we parted, 185 The mountain sat upon the plain, 59 Much madness is divinest sense, 22 The murmering of bees has ceased, 275 A murmur in the trees to note, 263 The murmur of a bee, 47 The mushroom is the elf of plants, 165 Musicians wrestle everywhere, 130 My cocoon tightens, colors tease, 69 My country need not change her gown, 113 My friend must be a bird, 254 My life closed twice before its close, 222 My nosegays are for captives, 96 My river runs to thee, 38 My Wheel is in the dark, 325 My worthiness is all my doubt, 246 N A narrow fellow in the grass, 164 Nature, the gentlest mother, 145 Nature is what we see, 332 Nature rarer uses yellow, 169

 

Page 411 The nearest dream recedes, unrealized, 98 New feet within my garden go, 46 The night was wide, and furnished scant, 139 No Autumn's intercepting chill, 374 No brigadier throughout the year, 181 No matter where the Saints abide, 378 No other can reduce, 324 No rack can torture me, 86 No romance sold unto, 323 Not any higher stands the grave, 283 Not any sunny tone, 352 Not in this world to see his face, 78 Not knowing when the dawn will come, 262 Not one by Heaven defrauded stay, 358 Not when we know, 364 Not with a club the heart is broken, 254 O Of all the souls that stand create, 132 Of all the sounds despatched abroad, 60 Of bronze and blaze, 274 Of Death the sharpest function, 330 Of so divine a loss, 381 Of this is Day composed, 344 Of tribulation these are they, 209 On my volcano grows the grass, 377 On such a night, or such a night, 198 On the bleakness of my lot, 230 On this long storm the rainbow rose, 69 On this wondrous sea, 307 One blessing had I, than the rest, 247 One day is there of the series, 244 One dignity delays for all, 66 One need not be a chamber to be haunted, 202 One of the ones that Midas touched, 156 The one that could repeat the summer day, 167 The Ones that disappeared are back, 348 The only ghost I ever saw, 188 Our journey had advanced, 197 Our lives are Swiss, 238 Our share of night to bear, 17 Our Sister have I in our house, 318 The overtakelessness of those, 362 P Pain has an element of blank, 27 Papa above!, 364 The past is such a curious creature, 240 The pedigree of honey, 48

 

Page 412 Perception of an, 324 Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?, 47 Peril as a possession, 321 Pigmy seraphs gone astray, 154 Pink, small, and punctual, 46 Pompless no life can pass away, 194 Poor little heart!, 250 A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, 109 Portraits are to daily faces, 114 Prayer is the little implement, 129 A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, 21 Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn, 57 A prompt, executive Bird is the Jay, 349 The props assist the house, 329 Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, 246 R The rat is the concisest tenant, 171 Read, sweet, how others strove, 27 "Remember me," implored the Thief, 365 Remembrance has a rear and front, 238 Remorse is memory awake, 121 The reticent volcano keeps, 228 Reverse cannot befall that fine Prosperity, 322 The right to perish might be thought, 321 The robin is the one, 149 The rose did caper on her cheek, 141 A route of evanescence, 158 S Safe Despair it is that raves, 381 Safe in their alabaster chambers, 68 The Sea said "Come" to the Brook, 373 A sepal, petal, and a thorn, 264 A shady friend for torrid days, 115 She died, this was the way she died, 203 She died at play, 333 She laid her docile crescent down, 285 She rose to his requirement, dropped, 45 She slept beneath a tree, 259 She sweeps with many-colored brooms, 174 She went as quiet as the dew, 82 The show is not the show, 107 A sickness of this world it most occasions, 291 The skies can't keep their secret!, 158 The sky is low, the clouds are mean, 63 Sleep is supposed to be, 88 A sloop of amber slips away, 273

 

Page 413 So, from the mould, 342 So bashful when I spied her, 58 So gay a flower bereaved the mind, 326 So proud she was to die, 292 So set its sun in thee, 379 Softened by Time's consummate plush, 245 A solemn thing it was, I said, 257 Some, too fragile for winter winds, 189 Some Days retired from the rest, 336 Some keep the Sabbath going to church, 48 Some rainbow coming from the fair!, 50 Some things that fly there be, 24 A something in a summer's day, 53 Soul, wilt thou toss again?, 18 The soul selects her own society, 23 The soul should always stand ajar, 294 The Soul that hath a Guest, 320 The soul unto itself, 105 The Soul's superior instants, 332 South winds jostle them, 173 "Sown in dishonor?," 366 Speech is a symptom of affection, 370 The spider as an artist, 265 A spider sewed at night, 166 Split the lark and you'll find the music, 249 The springtime's pallid landscape, 258 The Stars are old, that stood for me, 383 Step lightly on this narrow spot!, 184 The stimulus, beyond the grave, 278 The suburbs of a secret, 328 Success is counted sweetest, 17 Summer begins to have the look, 349 Summer for thee grant I may be, 248 The sun just touched the morning, 148 The sun kept setting, setting still, 80 Superfluous were the sun, 292 Superiority to fate, 216 Surgeons must be very careful, 106 Sweet hours have perished here, 287 Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, 268 The sweets of Pillage can be known, 367 T 'T is little I could care for pearls, 216 'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy!, 18 'T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou, 282 'T is whiter than an Indian pipe, 284 'T was comfort in her dying room, 354 'T was just this time last year I died, 306 'T was later when the summer went, 61

 

Page 414 'T was such a little, little boat, 29 Taken from men this morning, 205 Talk with prudence to a beggar, 118 That I did always love, 36 That is solemn we have ended, 278 That Love is all there is, 372 That she forgot me was the least, 380 That short, potential stir, 73 That such have died enables us, 279 Their height in heaven comforts not, 192 There came a day at summer's full, 41 There came a wind like a bugle, 166 There is a flower that bees prefer, 55 There is a shame of nobleness, 192 There is a solitude of space, 328 There is a word, 251 There is another Loneliness, 326 There is no frigate like a book, 223 There's a certain slant of light, 65 There's been a death in the opposite house, 300 There's something quieter than sleep, 294 These are the days that Reindeer love, 350 These are the days when birds come back, 62 They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, 188 They say that "time assuages," 277 They won't frown always,some sweet day, 279 This is my letter to the world, 12 This is the land the sunset washes, 54 This merit hath the worst, 124 This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies, 354 This was in the white of the year, 287 This world is not conclusion, 276 Those final Creatures,who they are, 348 Though I get home how late, how late!, 109 The thought beneath so slight a film, 105 A thought went up my mind to-day, 108 Three weeks passed since I had seen her, 295 A throe upon the features, 208 Through the straight pass of suffering, 103 Tie the strings to my life, my Lord, 293 To be alive is power, 322

 

Page 415 To fight aloud is very brave, 26 To hand our head ostensibly, 239 To hear an oriole sing, 155 To help our bleaker parts, 241 To know just how he suffered would be dear, 76 To learn the transport by the pain, 127 To lose one's faith surpasses, 236 To lose thee, sweeter than to gain, 249 To love thee, year by year, 376 To make a prairie it takes a clover, 266 To my quick ear the leaves conferred, 264 To pile like Thunder to its close, 382 To see her is a picture, 379 To tell the beauty would decrease, 376 To the staunch Dust we safe commit thee, 360 To this apartment deep, 365 To venerate the simple days, 219 A toad can die of light!, 305 Today or this noon, 356 Too cold is this, 355 A train went through a burial gate, 71 The treason of an accent, 375 Triumph may be of several kinds, 193 'Twas a long parting, but the time, 43 Two butterflies went out at noon, 159 Two lengths has every day, 331 Two swimmers wrestled on the spar, 80 U Undue significance a starving man attaches, 122 Unto my books so good to turn, 124 Upon the gallows hung a wretch, 227 V Victory comes late, 111 Volcanoes be in Sicily, 374 W Wait till the majesty of Death, 203 Water is taught by thirst, 302 The way I read a letter's this, 137 We cover thee, sweet face, 277 We learn in the retreating, 276 We like March, his shoes are purple, 262 We never know how high we are, 222 We never know we go,when we are going, 301 We outgrow love like other things, 253 We play at paste, 99 We should not mind so small a flower, 360

 

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