727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—

752 So the Eyes accost—and sunder In an Audience— Stamped—occasionally—forever— So may Countenance

517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

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

661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me

316 The Wind didn’t come from the Orc… Further than that— Nor stop to play with the Hay— Nor joggle a Hat—

834 Before He comes we weigh the Time… ’Tis Heavy and ’tis Light. When He depart, an Emptiness Is the prevailing Freight.

All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -

“I want”—it pleaded—All its life— I want—was chief it said When Skill entreated it—the last— And when so newly dead— I could not deem it late—to hear

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

76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—