23 I had a guinea golden— I lost it in the sand— And tho’ the sum was simple And pounds were in the land—

Longing is like the Seed That wrestles in the Ground, Believing if it intercede It shall at length be found. The Hour, and the Clime -

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

570 I could die—to know— ’Tis a trifling knowledge— News-Boys salute the Door— Carts—joggle by—

It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh

182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.

XXXI I FOUND the phrase to every tho… I ever had, but one; And that defies me,—as a hand Did try to chalk the sun

519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.

414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony