564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

A Sickness of this World it most… When Best Men die. A Wishfulness their far Condition To occupy. A Chief indifference, as Foreign

569 I reckon—when I count it all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—

929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.

767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine

786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—

596 When I was small, a Woman died— Today—her Only Boy Went up from the Potomac— His face all Victory

They dropped like flakes, they dro… Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless gras…

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,

412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—

I had not minded—Walls— Were Universe—one Rock— And far I heard his silver Call The other side the Block— I’d tunnel—till my Groove

411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—