A Narrow Fellow In The Grass Occasionally

Such Is The Force Of Happiness-- The Least Can Lift A Ton Assisted By Its Stimulus.

And You Dropt, Lost, When Something Broke-- And Let You From A Dream

A Dominie In Gray-- Put Gently Up The Evening Bars-- And Led The Flock Away

I See Thee Better In The Dark, I Do Not Need A Light. The Love Of Thee A Prism Be Excelling Violet. I See Thee Better For The Years That Hunch Themselves Between, The Miner’s Lamp Sufficient Be To Nullify The Mine. And In The Grave I See Thee Best— Its Little Panels Be A-glow, All Ruddy With The Light I Held So High For Thee! What Need Of Day To Those Whose Dark Hath So Surpassing Sun, It Seem It Be Continually At The Meridian?

How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking Of A Door.