677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—

175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

XXXVIII THROUGH the straight pass of su… The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God.

545 ’Tis One by One—the Father count… And then a Tract between Set Cypherless—to teach the Eye The Value of its Ten—

294 The Doomed—regard the Sunrise With different Delight— Because—when next it burns abroad They doubt to witness it—

463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy

339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

264 A Weight with Needles on the poun… To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft… The puncture—coolly tries—

60 Like her the Saints retire, In their Chapeaux of fire, Martial as she! Like her the Evenings steal

1000 The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.”