208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—

669 No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One—

I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—

410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—

968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—

870 Finding is the first Act The second, loss, Third, Expedition for The “Golden Fleece”

543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—

Much Madness is divinest Sense - To a discerning Eye - Much Sense– the starkest Madness… ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -

372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—

947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?