717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—

863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—

660 ’Tis good—the looking back on Gri… To re-endure a Day— We thought the Mighty Funeral— Of All Conceived Joy—

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

Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue. Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman

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

908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—

437 Prayer is the little implement Through which Men reach Where Presence—is denied them. They fling their Speech

736 Have any like Myself Investigating March, New Houses on the Hill descried— And possibly a Church—

377 To lose one’s faith—surpass The loss of an Estate— Because Estates can be Replenished—faith cannot—

954 The Chemical conviction That Nought be lost Enable in Disaster My fractured Trust—