Part Five: The Single Hound XLIX The duties of the Wind are few— To cast the ships, at Sea, Establish March, the Floods escor…

517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

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—

Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue… The letting go A Presence—for an Expectation— Not now— The putting out of Eyes—

It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -

426 It don't sound so terrible—quite—a… I run it over—"Dead", Brain, "De… Put it in Latin—left of my school… Seems it don't shriek so—under rul…

925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.

295 Unto like Story—Trouble has entic… How Kinsmen fell— Brothers and Sister—who preferred… And their young will

899 Herein a Blossom lies— A Sepulchre, between— Cross it, and overcome the Bee— Remain—'tis but a Rind.