I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,

753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…

The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.

57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale

XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.

619 Glee—The great storm is over— Four—have recovered the Land— Forty gone down together— Into the boiling Sand.

580 I gave myself to Him— And took Himself, for Pay, The solemn contract of a Life Was ratified, this way—

Much Madness is divinest Sense - To a discerning Eye - Much Sense– the starkest Madness… ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -

977 Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair