232 The Sun—just touched the Morning— The Morning—Happy thing— Supposed that He had come to dwel… And Life would all be Spring!

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—

539 The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themsel… The Science of the Grave

They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…

A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,

693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

His bill an auger is, His head, a cap and frill. He laboreth at every tree,— A worm his utmost goal.

119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!

277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—