158 Dying! Dying in the night! Won’t somebody bring the light So I can see which way to go Into the everlasting snow?

325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—

My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks

90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—

If all the griefs I am to have Would only come today, I am so happy I believe They’d laugh and run away. If all the joys I am to have

883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light

894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.

336 The face I carry with me—last— When I go out of Time— To take my Rank—by—in the West— That face—will just be thine—

888 When I have seen the Sun emerge From His amazing House— And leave a Day at every Door A Deed, in every place—

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

606 The Trees like Tassels—hit—and sw… There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun—

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

9 Through lane it lay—through brambl… Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road.