Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!

883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light

786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—

66 So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From saga…

427 I’ll clutch—and clutch— Next—One—Might be the golden touc… Could take it— Diamonds—Wait—

498 I envy Seas, whereon He rides— I envy Spokes of Wheels Of Chariots, that Him convey— I envy Crooked Hills

553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—

491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood

12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.

’Twas comfort in her Dying Room To hear the living Clock— A short relief to have the wind Walk boldly up and knock— Diversion from the Dying Theme

It sounded as if the Streets were… And then– the Streets stood stil… Eclipse - was all we could see at… And Awe - was all we could feel. By and by - the boldest stole out…

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—