She could not live upon the Past The Present did not know her And so she sought this sweet at la… And nature gently owned her The mother that has not a knell

516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases

57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,

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

110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!

952 A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a… In dormant nature—lain—

My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper

207 Tho’ I get home how late—how late… So I get home—’twill compensate— Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me—

All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -

58 Delayed till she had ceased to kno… Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay— An hour behind the fleeting breath…

237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—

448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense

1670 In Winter in my Room I came upon a Worm— Pink, lank and warm— But as he was a worm