250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—

702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—

981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do

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

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

170 Portraits are to daily faces As an Evening West, To a fine, pedantic sunshine— In a satin Vest!

97 The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by, Yet is she more convincing Than Philosophy.

’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so

820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—

172 ’Tis so much joy! ’Tis so much jo… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I, Have ventured all upon a throw!

690 Victory comes late— And is held low to freezing lips— Too rapt with frost To take it—

383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand

38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!

The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—