939 What I see not, I better see— Through Faith—my Hazel Eye Has periods of shutting— But, No lid has Memory—

218 Is it true, dear Sue? Are there two? I shouldn’t like to come For fear of joggling Him!

142 Whose are the little beds, I aske… Which in the valleys lie? Some shook their heads, and others… And no one made reply.

The Clover’s simple Fame Remembered of the Cow - Is better than enameled Realms Of notability. Renown perceives itself

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—

934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—