417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?

985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—

550 I cross till I am weary A Mountain—in my mind— More Mountains—then a Sea— More Seas—And then

‘T was just this time last year I… I know I heard the corn, When I was carried by the farms,— It had the tassels on. I thought how yellow it would look

1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.

782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—

XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy

690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—

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,

The Butterfly upon the Sky, That doesn’t know its Name And hasn’t any tax to pay And hasn’t any Home Is just as high as you and I,

140 An altered look about the hills— A Tyrian light the village fills— A wider sunrise in the morn— A deeper twilight on the lawn—