856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

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

401 What Soft—Cherubic Creatures— These Gentlewomen are— One would as soon assault a Plush… Or violate a Star—

907 Till Death’—is narrow Loving’— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness’—be spent’—

It’s thoughts—and just One Heart— And Old Sunshine—about— Make frugal—Ones—Content— And two or three—for Company— Upon a Holiday—

651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing

185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.

698 Life—is what we make of it— Death—we do not know— Christ’s acquaintance with Him Justify Him—though—

923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—

467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—