455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—

989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.

964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—

903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.

‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us

665 Dropped into the Ether Acre— Wearing the Sod Gown— Bonnet of Everlasting Laces— Brooch—frozen on—

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—

256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…

11 I never told the buried gold Upon the hill—that lies— I saw the sun—his plunder done Crouch low to guard his prize.