788 Joy to have merited the Pain— To merit the Release— Joy to have perished every step— To Compass Paradise—

969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—

705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –

I breathed enough to learn the tri… And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure The lungs are stirless, must desce…

608 Afraid! Of whom am I afraid? Not Death—for who is He? The Porter of my Father’s Lodge As much abasheth me!

No brigadier throughout the year So civic as the jay. A neighbor and a warrior too, With shrill felicity Pursuing winds that censure us

525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe

275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—

This quiet dust was gentlemen and… And lads and girls; Was laughter and ability and sighi… And frocks and curls; This passive place a summer’s nimb…

364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,