713 Fame of Myself, to justify, All other Plaudit be Superfluous—An Incense Beyond Necessity—

60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal

342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—

857 Uncertain lease—develops lustre On Time Uncertain Grasp, appreciation Of Sum—

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

Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—

979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—

104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.

113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—

575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,

XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step

453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —