646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—

566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—

Could Hope inspect her Basis Her Craft were done - Has a fictitious Charter Or it has none - Balked in the vastest instance

506 He touched me, so I live to know That such a day, permitted so, I groped upon his breast— It was a boundless place to me

LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.

491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood

A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,

It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh

929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.

643 I could suffice for Him, I knew— He—could suffice for Me— Yet Hesitating Fractions—Both Surveyed Infinity—

890 From Us She wandered now a Year, Her tarrying, unknown, If Wilderness prevent her feet Or that Ethereal Zone