467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

596 When I was small, a Woman died— Today—her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac— His face all Victory

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,

397 When Diamonds are a Legend, And Diadems—a Tale— I Brooch and Earrings for Myself… Do sow, and Raise for sale—

161 A feather from the Whippoorwill That everlasting—sings! Whose galleries—are Sunrise— Whose Opera—the Springs—

372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—

385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—

A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb,

780 The Truth—is stirless— Other force—may be presumed to mov… This—then—is best for confidence— When oldest Cedars swerve—

378 I saw no Way—The Heavens were st… I felt the Columns close— The Earth reversed her Hemisphere… I touched the Universe—

801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold