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

LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!

151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,

94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling&m da… Do the Buds to them belong?

910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead

373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,

100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold

The thought beneath so slight a fi… Is more distincly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.

The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -

Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time