926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—

The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,

1035 Bee! I’m expecting you! Was saying Yesterday To Somebody you know That you were due—

889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep

792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—

44 If she had been the Mistletoe And I had been the Rose— How gay upon your table My velvet life to close—

907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—

119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

A clock stopped—not the mantel’s Geneva’s farthest skill Can’t put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still. An awe came on the trinket!

175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—

I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,