521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—

266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

DEAR March, come in! How glad I am! I looked for you before. Put down your hat— You must have walked—

321 Of all the Sounds despatched abro… There’s not a Charge to me Like that old measure in the Boug… That phraseless Melody—

920 We can but follow to the Sun— As oft as He go down He leave Ourselves a Sphere behin… ’Tis mostly—following—

THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wi… Like fallow article, And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible. His small umbrella, quaintly halve…

383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand

Declaiming Waters none may dread… But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature– they are full –

657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—

642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —

God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv… My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the fea…