26 It’s all I have to bring today— This, and my heart beside— This, and my heart, and all the fi… And all the meadows wide—

Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss,

728 Let Us play Yesterday— I—the Girl at school— You—and Eternity—the Untold Tale—

544 The Martyr Poets—did not tell— But wrought their Pang in syllabl… That when their mortal name be num… Their mortal fate—encourage Some—

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

183 I’ve heard an Organ talk, sometim… In a Cathedral Aisle, And understood no word it said— Yet held my breath, the while—

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

22 All these my banners be. I sow my pageantry In May— It rises train by train—

636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—

560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—