My life had stood—a Loaded Gun— In Corners—till a Day The Owner passed—identified— And carried Me away— And now We roam in Sovereign Woo…

Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—

553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

138 Pigmy seraphs—gone astray— Velvet people from Vevay— Balles from some lost summer day— Bees exclusive Coterie—

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

673 The Love a Life can show Below Is but a filament, I know, Of that diviner thing That faints upon the face of Noon…

73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!

Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.