Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather

271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—

195 For this—accepted Breath— Through it—compete with Death— The fellow cannot touch this Crow… By it—my title take—

XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass

828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—

To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -

Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—

894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.

383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand