366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand

I saw the wind within her I knew it blew for me '— But she must buy my shelter I asked Humility

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,

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die

38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,

354 From Cocoon forth a Butterfly As Lady from her Door Emerged—a Summer Afternoon— Repairing Everywhere—

808 So set its Sun in Thee What Day be dark to me— What Distance—far— So I the Ships may see

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —