A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think.

Knew I how to pray, to intercede for your [broken] Foot were intuitive - but I am but a Pagan.

I work to drive the awe away, yet awe impels the work.

A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care — For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee And an entire universe For the delighted crew.

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!

That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.

AMPLE make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight, Be its pillow round; Let no sunrise’ yellow noise Interrupt this ground.