• Noon — is the Hinge of Day —

    Evening — the Tissue Door —

    Morning — the East compelling the sill

    Till all the World is ajar —

  • Not "Revelation" — 'tis — that waits,

    But our unfurnished eyes —

  • Not any higher stands the Grave

    For Heroes than for Men —

    Not any nearer for the Child

    Than numb Three Score and Ten —


    This latest Leisure equal lulls

    The Beggar and his Queen

    Propitiate this Democrat

    A Summer's Afternoon —

  • Not any more to be lacked —

    Not any more to be known —

    Denizen of Significance

    For a span so worn —


    Even Nature herself

    Has forgot it is there —

    Sedulous of her Multitudes

    Notwithstanding Despair —


    Of the Ones that pursued it

    Suing it not to go

    ...

  • Not any sunny tone

    From any fervent zone

    Find entrance there —

    Better a grave of Balm

    Toward human nature's home —

    And Robins near —

    Than a stupendous Tomb

    Proclaiming to the Gloom

    How dead we are —

  • Not at Home to Callers

    Says the Naked Tree —

    Bonnet due in April —

    Wishing you Good Day —

  • Not in this World to see his face —

    Sounds long — until I read the place

    Where this — is said to be

    But just the Primer — to a life —

    Unopened — rare — Upon the Shelf —

    Clasped yet — to Him — and Me —


    And yet — My Primer suits me so

    I would not choose — a Book to know

    Than...

  • Not knowing when the Dawn will come,

    I open every Door,

    Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,

    Or Billows, like a Shore —

  • Not probable — The barest Chance —

    A smile too few — a word too much

    And far from Heaven as the Rest —

    The Soul so close on Paradise —


    What if the Bird from journey far —

    Confused by Sweets — as Mortals — are —

    Forget the secret of His wing

    And perish — but a Bough between —
    ...

  • Not Sickness stains the Brave,

    Nor any Dart,

    Nor Doubt of Scene to come,

    But an adjourning Heart —