89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

562 Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns

To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—

597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering—

The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue

A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind. The vane a little to the east

I many times thought Peace had co… When Peace was far away’— As Wrecked Men’—deem they sight t… At Centre of the Sea’— And struggle slacker’—but to prove

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

737 The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Fac… Upon the World below—

803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—

Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,

607 Of nearness to her sundered Thing… The Soul has special times— When Dimness—looks the Oddity— Distinctness—easy—se ems—